


Further

by theDeadTree



Series: theDeadTree Writes Miraculous Angst [2]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Post-Reveal Adrien Agreste/Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Pre-Relationship, post-reveal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-10-20
Packaged: 2019-03-21 12:44:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 44,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13741149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theDeadTree/pseuds/theDeadTree
Summary: Marinette and Adrien struggle to navigate their relationship in wake of the reveal; as Marinette realises that she only has more secrets to keep, and an even more complicated web of lies to maintain. Meanwhile, Adrien finds himself caught between two sides; torn between family and duty, despite it being a decision he thought he’d made a long time ago.





	1. Wednesday

**Author's Note:**

> …aaaand we’re back. Largely thanks to popular request, here is the sequel to Closer (I _highly_ recommend you read that first if you haven’t already). 
> 
> I’ll be honest. I feel like Closer may have been catching lightning in a bottle and I’m not entirely sure I’ll be able to live up to the unreasonably high standard I appear to have set for myself. Also, I’m not confident with fight scenes. Still, I really want to continue that story. If anyone feels there’s been a dip in quality, I apologise. I have no idea what I’m doing, but I’m trying my best.
> 
> I remain Miraculous trash that should not be allowed anywhere near a keyboard.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng wandered into the school in a daze, not quite sure what to make of her surroundings as she slowly moved across the courtyard. There wasn’t much else she could do. All of a sudden, the world around her didn’t seem real anymore – although whether that was because of what happened the previous day or the fact that she’d gotten absolutely no sleep last night was up for debate.

After what happened yesterday? She’d be lucky if she ever got a full night’s sleep again.

She still couldn’t quite believe she did that. Still couldn’t bring herself to accept that, _yes,_ she had indeed snuck into Adrien’s bedroom and purposely dropped her transformation in front of him, before proceeding to spend the next who even knows how many hours trying to drag him back into the fold.

It was ridiculous. It was ridiculous and nonsensical and she’d always thought that if one of them ever tried to give up, it would be her. She had the track record for it, after all.

She didn’t want to think about it. It was confusing enough already.

“You’re actually here,” Alya noted disbelievingly from behind, causing Marinette to jump violently in surprise. “Mari, you’re on-time for school? What kind of crazy parallel universe is this?”

Slowly, jerkily, Marinette stopped, pivoting on her heels to face her best friend, before casually shrugging and giving her best nonchalant face.

“Um, surprise?” she managed, her voice shaky and her demeanour awkward.

Alya opened her mouth to say something, but was immediately cut off as Nino swooped in, wrapping his arms around her waist and giving her a light kiss on the cheek.

“Ugh, _Nino!”_ Alya groaned, squirming away. “Don’t _do_ that!”

“What’s wrong babe? I thought you _liked_ being taken from behind.”

“Nino!” she screeched in response. _“Not in front Marinette!”_

At her words, Nino’s eyes flicked up, finally coming to rest on Marinette, who remained rooted to the spot, too taken aback to move, and trying her best to ignore anything that had happened in the past minute.

“Oh hey Mari,” he called pleasantly, giving her a small wave from his position snaked around Alya. “How’s it going?”

The instant she managed to regain control over her body, Marinette spun around on the spot until her back was facing them. “I’m just going to pretend I didn’t see or hear any of that.”

Where was the brain bleach? She had a sudden and inexplicable urge for it.

“Now, _where_ were we?” she heard Nino say.

“Oh look, it’s Adrien! How about you go to your best friend and I’ll attend to mine and we’ll continue this later?”

Marinette squeezed her eyes shut tight at Alya’s words, hoping, _praying_ that she wasn’t being serious, and Adrien wasn’t actually there, standing right behind her. She couldn’t look at him. She couldn’t be around him. Now more than ever.

But there he was, standing by the doors smiling his perfect smile at Nino as he went over to meet him. Marinette shifted awkwardly, completely at a loss of what to do, and unable to rid herself of the feeling that the entire world had shifted. She supposed it had, in its own way.

“Hey man,” Nino called, clapping Adrien on the back. “Have you- …oh hey, you found your ring.”

Marinette immediately tensed, but Adrien just gave Nino his usual dazzling smile and shrugged it off like it was the most casual thing in the world.

“Yeah,” he replied cheerfully. “And I only had to tear apart half my room.”

It was hard to say what was stranger, knowing his words were nothing more than a bold-faced lie, or seeing just how smoothly he covered up the truth. Although it honestly should’ve occurred to her that people would notice the ring’s absence – he wore it all the time, after all. For it to suddenly go missing for three days… it made sense for him to claim that he’d simply lost it.

She must have been staring for far too long at that point, as Adrien seemed to notice her in his peripheral vision and glanced over in her direction.

“Hey, Marinette!” he called to her, flashing his classic model smile and giving an enthusiastic wave as he passed.

Right on cue, Marinette felt her heart skip a beat as her brain tried to scramble with the fact that she was really, actually, genuinely being addressed in such a cheerful, candid manner by Adrien.

This couldn’t be happening. Was this happening? Was this _real?_ How could he put on such a brave face, after the week they’d had? How could he just be there and pretend like it was fine, like nothing had changed, that everything was the same as it always had been? Sure, she’d been telling herself exactly that all night – that nothing had changed, everyone was still exactly who they were and knowing identities wasn’t going to affect anything – but there was more than just knowing who she was for him.

She bit her lip uncomfortably, still not really able to look at him without part of her brain screaming at her for so blindly trusting the son of her enemy.

Once again, she hastily shoved aside that thought. She had more reasons to trust Adrien Agreste than she did anyone else in the world. She had to keep telling herself that. There was no way she was going to let the arguments and misunderstandings of the previous week repeat.

“Adrien! Hi… hello! H-hey!” she all but screamed back at him, trying desperately to ignore how the blood immediately rushed to her cheeks, colouring her face a brilliant and thoroughly embarrassing pink.

She was so bad at this.

 _How_ was she still so _bad_ at this?

 _He’s Chat,_ she reminded herself firmly. _He’s literally Chat Noir._

Involuntarily, she shivered at the thought. Everything about that fact still felt so utterly insane. She was starting to wonder if she would ever get to a point in her life where it would sound kind of, sort of, well, _normal._ She’d thought they were past this part. They’d spent who even knows how long sitting on a roof together the night before, they should be at a point where they were comfortable with each other, with knowing, with being open and candid about everything.

But he was _Adrien._

He was _Adrien Agreste_ and there was nothing okay about that fact.

She really hadn’t processed his identity at all, had she?

“And the world makes sense again,” Alya muttered, shaking her head in some vain attempt to hide her amusement at her friend’s hopeless fumbling.

Marinette let out a loud, exhausted groan and slapped her palm to her forehead in sheer exasperation. “Am I _ever_ going to be able to talk to him like a normal person?”

Alya just laughed in response. “After what I just witnessed? Doubt it.”

It wasn’t the encouraging response Marinette had been hoping for, made worse by the fact that she knew it was probably true. If she hadn’t known how to act around him before, it was _nothing_ compared to now. What if he was expecting her to be Ladybug? She couldn’t be Ladybug. Not out of costume, and certainly not around him. And – oh god, what if there was an akuma? They’d gotten pretty lucky lately, but that wouldn’t hold out for long. One day, probably sooner rather than later, she’d have to face it.

“You never did tell me about your date, by the way.”

Marinette jumped violently at the sound of Alya’s voice, whirling around to face her friend with wide, shocked eyes.

Her date? When did she have a _date?_ Better yet, when did Alya _find out?_ Of course Alya would’ve been the first person she would tell if she _did_ have a date with someone, but the fact was she _hadn’t_ and she had no idea where this even came from.

“M-my _what?”_ she had to stop herself from screeching at full volume.

Alya’s eyebrows rose critically at her. “Last Friday? You said you had to meet someone.”

She said _what?_

“I- I did?”

“You were meeting a boy,” Alya pressed.

 _She_ said that? To Alya?

That was stupid. The only person she’d seen on Friday was Chat Noir, when they met up for that disastrous patrol and had that terrible fight-

…oh.

_Oh._

Marinette chewed her lip anxiously. “Right… _that._ That wasn’t a date. We’re not dating.”

Not at that point, anyway. But they weren’t now, either. In truth, Marinette had no _idea_ what they were doing. They liked each other. They both _knew_ that they liked each other. He’d known about her feelings for almost a full week now because she’d been so _stupid_ and _accidentally confessed_ without realising who she was confessing to. Wasn’t something supposed to happen now? Weren’t they supposed to kiss and be boyfriend and girlfriend and live happily ever after now? Shouldn’t that whole thing have resolved itself once the reveal was said and done?

Did it even _matter?_ Adrien and Marinette could hardly start dating the exact same time Ladybug and Chat Noir did. She may as well go around with a gigantic gaudy neon sign above her head that screamed _I’m Ladybug_ at passers-by. They could potentially get away with it in costume; half the city seemed to think they were together anyway. But out of it? That was another problem entirely.

She didn’t know what to do, or where to go from here. Knowing who he was complicated everything, just as she knew it would. This was everything she’d wanted to avoid in the first place – all the other consequent revelations were just nails in that coffin.

And even _without_ the issue of superhero identities to worry about – which was still undoubtedly an issue – it was becoming abundantly clear to her that she had _no idea_ how to progress their relationship.

It suddenly occurred to her that romance wasn’t really her strong suit. It didn’t seem to be Adrien’s, either.

“It _sounded_ a lot like a date,” Alya’s voice called, bringing her harshly back into reality.

Marinette flushed a bright scarlet at the thought.

“We were meeting up! We were just meeting up. To hang out. Because we’re friends,” she insisted defensively. “Besides, even if it _had_ been a date, it wouldn’t have been a very good one.”

“Did you fight?”

“I… yeah. I guess we did,” she mumbled sullenly. “But it’s fine! It’s _fine._ There was a misunderstanding, but it was cleared up and everything is just _fine.”_

It wasn’t fine.

Chat Noir was Hawk Moth’s son and it _still_ wasn’t fine.

She shouldn’t be doing this. They had things to do, a city to save, a nemesis to stop. They couldn’t afford to fumble around with their relationship when that was still an issue. Feelings, crushes, and potential relationships were stupid and unimportant and entirely inconsequential in comparison to that. They had to come up with a battle plan. They had to do something. They had to make sure they were ready for that fight. She had to make sure _Adrien_ was ready.

There were just so many more things that were a million times more important and trying to throw having a boyfriend and balancing a relationship into that mix was not going to help. It would only distract her; distract both of them. She knew that.

She _knew_ that.

“So, do I know him?”

Marinette jerked back in surprise. “I- _what?”_

Alya just watched her expectantly. “Your secret boyfriend. Do I know him?”

_He literally just walked by and took your own boyfriend with him._

“He’s not my boyfriend,” she insisted for the millionth time, feeling like something of a broken record. “We’re not dating.”

“Sure, Mari. Is he cute?”

“Does it _matter?”_

Alya shrugged. “I’m curious. How much of a step down from Adrien is this boy?”

“Alya!”

“What? Not everyone can be a model.”

“I can’t believe this. Why am I telling you any of this?”

 _“Beeeecause_ I’m your best friend and you love me?” Alya suggested, a wide grin spreading across her face. “Come on, Marinette. You can’t just go meet up with a boy and not tell me who it is.”

She threw her hands into the air helplessly. “Adrien, alright? It was _Adrien._ Happy now?”

That was technically true; even if she hadn’t known it at the time. So why did it feel like she was lying through her teeth? Why did everything she ever said feel like that?

In any case, it didn’t help.

Alya’s eyes went wide with shock. _“What?”_ she had to stop herself from outright screaming. “I’m sorry, but _what?!_ Why didn’t you _tell_ me?”

 _Because I didn’t know it was him._ “Because I knew you’d react like this.”

Was this going to be her life now? An elaborate web of lies and half-truths? Did it even matter? It wasn’t like lying to everyone she cared about was new. The only difference now was that she had Adrien to cover for as well, and he could handle himself just fine.

“Oh my god. Oh _my god._ I’m freaking out. I’m _freaking out!”_ Alya gushed, too taken with this revelation to pay any real attention to Marinette’s frown. “That’s amazing, Mari! Eee! I’m _so happy_ for you! Are you together? When’s the wedding?”

“What are you- no! _It wasn’t a date!”_

It was starting to feel like she could scream that at everyone forever and no one would listen.

“Oh, I can’t _wait_ to tell Nino.”

“Do _not_ tell Nino,” Marinette cut across her sharply. “Alya, don’t you _dare.”_

Alya, bless her, _pouted_ at that. “Why not?”

Marinette let out a long, thoroughly exhausted sigh and rolled her shoulders back, trying to relax despite all the built-up stress that refused to go anywhere. She didn’t want to explain this. She _couldn’t,_ not without compromising both herself and Adrien.

“If Adrien wants him to know, I’m sure he’ll say something,” she hedged carefully. “Besides, the less people find out about what happened, the better. Less chance of it getting back to Chloé.”

A shiver went up her spine at the mere thought of Chloé finding out that Marinette had so much as _breathed_ in Adrien’s direction.

“I’d be telling everyone if I were you. Rub it in all their faces.”

Marinette snorted. “Tell everyone I had an argument with _Adrien Agreste?_ Are you _crazy?”_

“Wait. You had a fight? With Adrien?”

“It was a misunderstanding,” she insisted feebly.

Alya’s shocked expression did not change. “With _Adrien?”_

She shouldn’t have said anything. She shouldn’t have mentioned the fight. Part of her wanted to be as truthful as possible, probably because she was so acutely aware of all the things she had to lie about. But that only seemed to dig her even deeper into the hole she was already in.

 _No, you don’t understand,_ she wanted to say. _He’s Chat Noir. He’s Chat Noir and his father is Hawk Moth._

Adrien was Chat Noir and Gabriel was Hawk Moth and she was an _idiot._

“It’s complicated,” she ground out after pausing for just slightly too long.

Alya let out a frustrated sigh and threw her hands into the air as she headed up the stairs towards the classrooms. “This is just the gum thing all over again, isn’t it?”

Marinette folded her arms and huffed as she followed, a little offended. “It’s nothing like the gum thing. This was _way_ bigger than the gum thing.”

“That’s not comforting, Marinette. Did you sort it out, at least?”

“Yep!” she replied, a little too cheerfully. “Absolutely. Everything is a-okay.”

Alya pulled a face that seemed to imply she didn’t quite believe that, but ultimately didn’t say anything. Marinette couldn’t really blame her. It was a lot to take in all at once. Giving her the full context of the situation would only make everything worse.

She smiled ruefully at the thought.

Relationship problems _and_ superheroes! What a combination!

“I can’t believe you fought with Adrien,” Alya sighed as they both headed to Mlle Bustier’s classroom. “What do you even have to fight him about?”

Marinette bit her lip and didn’t answer. There was nothing she could say without outing herself, after all. But they had a plethora of things to fight about. Even now, with all their secrets out on the open, they had things to fight about. Just because she was determined not to repeat the insanity that had almost cost her Chat Noir and everything important to her didn’t mean they didn’t have anything left to fight over.

Like Hawk Moth.

Like whether or not he could be redeemed.

Like if it was even worth trying.

She closed her eyes and exhaled softly, trying not to think about it, about how upset Adrien had been last time they’d tried to talk about it. She understood. Really, she did. But they only had so many options. At this point, no matter what they did, one way or another, someone would get hurt. It was all she could do to try and minimise the damage.

She trailed behind Alya as they entered the classroom, shrinking behind her best friend in an effort to cease existing as Chloé let out a very loud and thoroughly disdainful sniff in her direction – probably to imply something awful about her and undermine her confidence, but Marinette honestly couldn’t bring herself to care anymore. She was far too distracted with the fact that she managed to catch Adrien’s eye for all of half a second, and the perfect smile he’d flashed at her in response. Marinette immediately cast her gaze to the floor, trying desperately to ignore the heat that had abruptly risen to her cheeks. She quickly rushed to her seat, pressing herself against it in the vain hope that if she tried hard enough, she’d simply melt into it.

It was all so agonisingly normal. She _hated_ how normal it was.

 _You’re fine,_ she insisted to herself. _You’re fine. It’s fine. He’s fine. It’s fine._

Above them, the lights flickered for a moment.

“Uh, what’s with the lights?” Nino muttered, leaning over to Adrien, who simply shrugged, just as confused as everyone else.

“I don’t know, I-” he cut off as his phone buzzed on his desk.

Nino groaned. “Your old man messing up your schedule again?”

Adrien let out a mildly irritated exhale and nodded as his phone buzzed once more.

“Yeah, it’s Nathalie,” he muttered before glancing up to the teacher. “She’s probably going to tell me I have to come home immediately for a fitting or something. Sorry Mlle Bustier, I have to take this.”

That earned him a thoroughly annoyed but understanding nod, and just like that, he scooped up his phone and disappeared through the door. Marinette watched him go, not sure what to make of him. It was like nothing had changed for him. Like this was a day like any other, and everything was exactly the same as it always was.

And it might’ve been, until the lights sputtered again, causing Marinette to glare at the ceiling.

That had better not be what she was half convinced it was. It had only been two days. They used to get slightly more of a respite than that.

The lights faltered one more time, before finally flicking off permanently. Marinette sank lower in her seat, determined to ignore the murmurings that filled the room, hoping against hope that it wasn’t exactly what she knew it was.

She didn’t want to do this. She _couldn’t_ do this. She’d barely even begun to wrap her head around everything.

“Alright everyone, calm down,” Mlle Bustier called. “Looks like there’s been a blackout. I’m sure the power will be back up in no time.”

A low, rumbling _boom_ sounded out from somewhere outside.

 _No,_ Marinette found herself silently begging no one, even as she began to stiffly rise from her seat. _Not here. Not now._

As if in answer to her thoughts, somewhere outside, something crashed.

_Please not now._

Why was she surprised? She wasn’t surprised. This all seemed perfectly in line with how everything else had been going lately, so it wasn’t surprising. Some part of her just wished someone in Paris could’ve waited more than a couple of days to have an emotional breakdown. That Hawk Moth could’ve held off on his reign of terror over the city until she managed to sort out her own feelings.

But super-heroics wait for no one. She should’ve realised that by now.

Still. Didn’t Hawk Moth ever get _tired?_

“Mlle Bustier!” she practically screamed, leaping to her feet. “I have to go!”

Mlle Bustier’s brow creased. “Marinette, a blackout is hardly any reason to-”

“It’s an _akuma,”_ she corrected automatically, before she could do anything to stop herself. She didn’t know where her certainty came from, but she could feel it. Somehow. She had to suit up, whether she liked it or not. Hopefully Adrien wasn’t too far. Hopefully he’d had the same realisations as her. She couldn’t afford to try tracking him down.

“Some flickering lights is hardly proof of-”

“Uh… Mlle Bustier?” Nathanaël called from by the window. “Marinette’s right.”

She breathed a sigh of relief as everyone immediately burst from their seats and rushed to the window, trying to see whatever unspeakable monster was rampaging through the streets of Paris _this_ time, while Marinette slipped from hear seat and headed straight to the door, employing every stealthy fibre in her being in the hope she could get away unnoticed.

_Thank you, Nath._

There was an audible _smack_ as Caline Bustier’s hand slammed against her forehead in exasperation. “Second time this week… alright everyone, there’s no reason to panic-”

Whatever the rest of her sentence was, Marinette didn’t hear it, quickly sneaking through the door and letting it click shut behind her.

The hall was deserted, but she couldn’t risk transforming here, just outside the classroom. She’d have to find a closet, or go around a corner, or something to that end. For what felt like an eternity, she just stood there, glancing around, not sure what to do or where to go. It shouldn’t have been an issue. She’d transformed so many times in the school, she should know exactly which places were safe and which weren’t. Normally, she did. But she was flustered and today didn’t seem to be a good day for her, just generally.

Realising that staying rooted to the spot wasn’t doing her any favours, she charged off in a frantic sprint down the hall, not entirely sure where she was going, but determined so long as it was away from here.

Transform, find the akuma, break whatever it was hiding in, purify it and send it back to its master. Like usual. She’d done this before – a _thousand_ times before. Nothing had changed. Nothing was different. She just had to keep telling herself that.

She was so focused on telling herself that, she didn’t see the figure at the end of the hall; at least, not until she unceremoniously crashed right into him, sending them both sprawling out on the floor.

“A-Adrien!” she stammered uselessly, scrambling backwards in horror the second she realised what had just happened. “I, uh… I- I was-”

Almost immediately, she found herself cut off as he quickly righted himself, before his hand gripped her wrist and wrenched her forward. “We need to go. _Now.”_

She didn’t resist him, though whether that was because she recognised the danger of the situation, or simply due to her shock of him actually knowing her identity, she couldn’t tell.

It shouldn’t have shocked her. It shouldn’t have mattered. But she was so used to running and hiding and lying through her teeth to everyone around her that anything else felt completely alien.

He’d said it wouldn’t be the same. He’d told her that just last night, and she’d dismissed him. Somehow, it had failed to cross her mind last night that this was permanent, that once they knew the truth, they could never go back to the way things were. It hadn’t really occurred to her that he was right, that something between them had shifted, irrevocably changing the dynamic. She’d been so focused on trying to win him back over, so desperate to drag him back into the fray that it honestly hadn’t occurred to her how much things were changing. How much they’d changed already.

It was jarring, to suddenly be aware of it all now.

“So…” a completely unfamiliar voice called as a black kwami peeked out from Adrien’s shirt pocket, his tiny face cracking a wide, devilish grin that reminded Marinette too starkly of Adrien’s costumed alter-ego. “Are you guys going to kiss, or do we have to stand around for another ten years for you to work out your feelings?”

There was an audible _smack_ as Adrien’s palm slapped against his forehead. “Not _helping,_ Plagg!” he hissed through gritted teeth.

“Who said I was trying to help?” came the response, as the creature moved out into view.

“Oh…” Marinette cooed, now that she had a proper chance to look at the foreign kwami. “Oh, you’re _adorable!_ Look at you! You’re so little! _With tiny kitty paws!”_

“Heh, I _am_ pretty great.”

“You’re just a little baby kitten!” she gushed, using up all her self-control not to squeal like a little girl. “Look at your tiny ears! And a _tail!_ So cute!”

Adrien just watched her, looking somewhat scandalised. _“Seriously,_ Marinette?”

His kwami – Plagg, Marinette reminded herself – didn’t react, or so much as move an inch from where he was, perfectly happy revelling in the attention he was getting.

“The girl can’t help it if she has taste,” he told Adrien bluntly.

“Akuma, Plagg. Need to transform. Like _now.”_

“Nothing stopping you from saying the words, kid.”

“Oh for- _claws out,”_ he muttered, closing his eyes just as the black kwami disappeared into the ring, before a wave of vibrant, electric green light made its way over Adrien’s frame. Marinette pulled back slightly, unable to do much more than watch in amazement as the magic snaked along his body, replacing his clothes with form-fitting black leather as his black domino mask bloomed across his face. The entire transformation probably lasted no longer than a second or two, but to Marinette, it may as well have taken a lifetime.

She’d never seen him transform before. Not into costume, at least.

 _“Chat,”_ she whispered, suddenly unable to stop smiling as tears of joy and relief began to well up in her eyes.

His eyes snapped open at the sound of her voice – those all too familiar slitted pupils glancing down at her curiously through a mess of wild, untamed blond hair. Marinette winced slightly as she remembered the last time he’d looked at her with those eyes, and the emotional turmoil that had permeated everything about that night, and the three days since.

It felt like years since she’d seen him.

“As nice as I am to look at, Buginette,” he began, breaking her roughly out of her thoughts as he did so, “you should probably transform.”

She blinked several times in surprise, staring absently at him until her brain managed to catch up with itself.

“Wha- …I… what?” she asked, her quavering voice low and hoarse as she immediately began to fumble with her bag. “Oh. Oh, right. Uh, okay.”

She had never been acutely aware of how pathetically clumsy she was as she fought with the clasp of her bag, growling slightly as it continuously slipped through her clammy fingers.

And oh god, Adrien was watching all of this, he was standing there watching her be totally useless, sooner or later he’d realise that she really _wasn’t_ anything special, he’d completely lose faith in her, he’d become convinced that she should give up her miraculous and allow someone who was actually competent to take over the mantle of Ladybug and _then-_

 _Breathe,_ a far calmer, more rational part of her mind told her.

Finally, after a small, excruciating eternity, she managed to claw open her bag, rousing the slumbering kwami inside.

“Marinette?” Tikki called, a little confused. “What’s going on? I heard-”

The kwami cut off almost immediately the instant her eyes came to rest on Adrien, who remained leaning against the wall, watching on curiously.

“…oh,” she muttered, glancing between the two teenagers. “Hello, Chat Noir.”

A small, wry smile pulled at the corners of Adrien’s lips and he gave a brief mock-salute, like seeing the tiny magical creature there was the most natural thing in the world. To him, Marinette supposed it would be.

“S-Spots on,” she mumbled hastily, eager to get this whole situation over and done with so she could crawl into a dark hole and preferably die.  

It felt so weird to say that in front of someone, to willingly transform with someone standing right there, watching. Even if that someone was Chat Noir. Maybe _especially_ because that someone was Chat Noir.

Chat Noir, who was _Adrien Agreste._

Nope. She still wasn’t over it.

“This is crazy,” she breathed as the pink light faded away and she was left standing there, in full Ladybug garb. “This is _crazy._ You know I’ve never seen a transformation before? I mean, I’ve transformed myself in front of a mirror, but it’s not really the same thing, and I’ve kind of always wondered what yours looks like and now I know because you just did it and I saw it, and this is just _crazy-”_

 _“Focus,_ Ladybug,” he chided gently in a manner that was way too _Adrien_ and just felt so _wrong_ coming from a fully costumed Chat Noir.

“Right! Uh… we should, um, we- we should go? Fight the akuma? Because that’s our job? And stuff? You know?”

The words came out in an awkward rush, nothing at all like the cool, calm, professional confidence Ladybug was practically famous for. And evidently, Adrien knew it.

“I swear, you’re not usually this self-conscious,” he mused. “What happened to the old Ladybug we all know and love?”

“Wow Chat, it’s _almost as if_ I just found out my partner is _Adrien Agreste,_ or something,” she snapped back without thinking, before almost immediately clamping her hands over her mouth in horror.

Did she actually just _say that?_ Did she seriously just say that to _him?_ Did she actually just _snark_ at _Adrien Agreste?_

But Adrien grinned, apparently delighted by her reaction. _“There_ she is.”

“Haha. Shut up,” she growled, before immediately backtracking. “I-I mean, don’t! Or do, if you want. I mean… _argh_ I hate this.”

Before she could dig herself further into the hole she was already in, she made a beeline for the window, opening it and leaping out in one fluid movement. Anything that meant she didn’t have to be here, with him, like that.

So rather than focus on the fact that he was right behind her, jumping out the window and smoothly extending his baton until he could casually step onto the roof of the school, Marinette elected to take special note of the feeling of wind rushing past as she swung in a huge circle around a nearby building until she came to a somewhat shaky landing next to him.

At least the akuma itself wasn’t hard to spot. Not that they usually were. The more of a spectacle they made, the more damage they did, the more frightened and stressed people became, the more potential victims Hawk Moth had. It made sense.

It would get worse.

Marinette was starting to realise that it would _always_ get worse.

“Tell me you’ve got a plan,” Adrien said beside her.

“Working on it,” she ground out. “But I can’t focus with you being like that.”

He shifted slightly at that, glancing over to her with a thoroughly confused expression. “What are you talking about?”

“With you!” she just about shouted at him. “Being there! Like that!”

“Like _what?”_

“Like _you!”_ Marinette had to stop herself from outright screaming. “You’re literally just _you_ but in a magic catsuit and this- …this is just _too weird.”_

“Are you seriously flaking out on me now?” he asked incredulously. “And to think, last night you were all, _‘it won’t be weird’_ and _‘nothing has changed’…”_

She scowled at him. “That’s true, though. The _only_ thing that’s different-”

“Is your perspective,” he finished for her, echoing her words from the night before. “Right?”

Marinette nodded, determined to reinforce that thought in her mind. She couldn’t fall into a heap now. But even as she fought desperately to convince herself that everything was fine, that nothing was wrong or different, she couldn’t help but be hyper-aware of him, of who he was.

“It’s good advice,” he continued softly. “Maybe you should take it.”

She wished she could. But it wasn’t that simple.

“You just…” she began agitatedly, trying to form her feelings into words and utterly failing. “You don’t feel like _you_ anymore.”

Did that even make sense? Did _any_ of what she was saying make even an _ounce_ of sense?

He arched an eyebrow at her, but something in his expression hinted at understanding. “I… can start throwing out some puns if it’ll help?” he suggested a little awkwardly.

She shook her head and suppressed a groan. “That’s not going to help.”

“Are you sure? I find they help a lot when I’m _feline_ stressed. And you look like you’re about to have kittens over this.”

Her eyebrows shot up incredulously. “Okay, that? That was _super_ forced.”

He shrugged nonchalantly, but ultimately conceded her point. “Yeah, okay, not my finest moment. Give me a minute. They’ll come to me.”

“Don’t strain yourself too hard,” she replied dryly, even as her internal panic threatened to overwhelm her.

There was another earth-shattering _boom_ in the distance, causing the two of them to wince. They couldn’t dance around this forever. They had to go.

“Ready?” Adrien called to her in a tone that seemed to imply he genuinely wasn’t sure.

That was a first.

Marinette closed her eyes and breathed. She could do this. For the sake of Paris, for the sake of her _dignity,_ both as a superhero and a person as a whole, she _had_ to do this.

She breathed.

“I’m ready,” she murmured as her eyes opened once again. “Let’s go.”


	2. Wednesday Evening

Going on patrol was quite possibly the absolute _last_ thing Marinette wanted to do that evening, but it wasn’t something she could avoid. They’d already agreed to keep their normal routines up, both of them anxious not to give the impression to outsiders that anything had changed between them. Of course, when they’d made that decision, just shy of twenty-four hours ago now, they had done it under the assumption that they wouldn’t have had their first post-reveal akuma battle already.

A shiver went up her spine as memories of their most recent fight rushed to the forefront of her mind. She didn’t want to think about it – about the akuma, about the fact she’d spent the whole fight knowing exactly who was behind it all, about Adrien carelessly flinging himself into danger before she could do anything to stop him, about watching him take hits for her they both knew full well could’ve killed him, all with the almost unbearable knowledge that it was _Adrien Agreste_ doing that.

He had to know. He had to know how stupid and impulsive and reckless he was being. He had to know how easily he could end up getting seriously hurt. Marinette was inclined to say that he’d _always_ known, given the amount of times they’d had that argument. She used to be able brush it off and ignore her worry, mostly because she knew he was never going to stop. But things were _different_ now. She couldn’t keep pretending they weren’t. Neither could he.

It was like he didn’t care. About himself, about his own wellbeing, about what could happen. He never really had, but now she couldn’t shake herself of the feeling it was getting worse. Like now he was actively looking for trouble rather than recklessly jumping into it when it passed by.

It was these small things – the subtle shifts in the way he acted, what he said, how he approached a fight – that told her something was different, that something was _wrong._ The fact that she couldn’t get two words from him any time she tried to investigate only seemed to confirm that theory. The fact that he seemed to go out of his way to act like everything was the same as it had always been didn’t help, either.

But all facades crack, eventually. Even his.

“Hey,” she called as she made her way over, slowly setting herself down next to him. “How’s your head?”

Adrien let out a long, exhausted sigh and made a point of looking off in the opposite direction. “I’m fine. It was just a minor concussion.”

A shiver went up Marinette’s spine at his nonchalance. “I saw how hard you hit that wall. You’re lucky it wasn’t worse.”

That earned her a rueful smile. “I guess you had to rub off on me eventually.”

“Adri-” she began, only to almost immediately cut herself off upon remembering they were still in costume. _“…Chat._ You almost had your skull cracked open.”

At her words, his rueful smile abruptly widened into a toothy – and entirely fake – grin that absolutely did not belong there. “You’re sweet when you worry.”

She didn’t grace that with a reply. The last thing she wanted to do was encourage him to keep down this road of denial. It wasn’t healthy – for him, for her, for their partnership in general – and they both knew it.

“In any case,” he began as he stretched dramatically and gave a huge yawn, “ignoring the headache, I’ve honestly never felt better.”

She groaned. “Why don’t I believe you?”

“It’s not that bad,” he insisted. “I’m fine. The suit’s magic, right? It’s fine. I’m fine.”

 _You’re not fine,_ she wanted to scream at him. _Anyone with eyes can tell you’re not fine._

It was so much easier to talk to him now, to reprimand him for his behaviour, to be _Ladybug,_ now that they were alone, and in costume. Something seemed to fall into place, and she began to see the boy she used to – the jokey flirtatious dork who bounced around and made puns which he insisted were a thousand times funnier than they were. He was suddenly just Chat Noir again – some other boy who lived on the other side of Paris whose real name just so _happened_ to be Adrien.

It was fragile, an illusion she knew would shatter the instant she gave it any more than the barest considerations. But it was the only thing that kept her from falling into a pathetic heap when she was anywhere near him, so she would cling to it for as long as possible, even if that was just for a moment.

Her eyes drifted aimlessly to his forehead, and the thin cut she knew was hidden behind his hair, trying in vain to ignore the memory of the wound just a few hours earlier that flashed through her mind. The river of blood that had been plastered to the side of his face, staining his hair a deep, unsettling red. Seeing Adrien Agreste bleed was something she had hoped she’d never have to witness. But life just wasn’t that kind, apparently. She’d seen him bleed before. She’d see him bleed again, and again, constantly and forever as long as he kept being who he was and doing what he did, out of some insane obsession with protecting her from harm.

It would’ve been cute, and flattering, if it didn’t almost get him killed with such astounding frequency.

And Gabriel was the one doing that to him. To _both_ of them.

Which begged the question – was this just a supervillain fighting the heroes tasked with stopping him, or did Gabriel _know_ Adrien was the one behind the black catsuit and loud, cocky, generally bombastic personality that was Chat Noir?

A shiver went up her spine at the thought. She didn’t want to think about it. Didn’t want to consider the possibility. For Adrien’s sake, she couldn’t even entertain the notion.

“What did you tell your dad?” she asked after what felt like a small eternity.

Adrien shrugged, his smile faltering. “That I got caught in the crossfire when the akuma passed by the school. It was the only thing I could come up with that sounded even halfway possible.”

“You couldn’t say that you tripped?”

“I’m not _you,_ princess,” he told her gently, the corners of his lips twitching with a half-hearted smile when he noticed her indignant expression. “Besides, lies are easier to maintain when there’s an element of truth to them.”

She looked away. “I suppose you’d know. How’d he take it?”

Adrien let out a chuckle, but it was quiet and bitter. “You should’ve seen his _face._ I wouldn’t be surprised if he doesn’t let me go to school without a squadron of armed guards from now on. Funny, considering the whole thing was his doing in the first place.”

“He tried to get you out though,” she noted quietly.

“What?”

“Just before the akuma attacked,” she continued, paling a little at the memory, at the implications of it. “Nathalie called you, didn’t she? Tried to get you to come home?”

Adrien opened his mouth to retort, only to almost immediately close it again as he actually took a moment to consider her point.

“That… could’ve been a coincidence,” he managed shakily after too long a pause.

“A _coincidence_ that _Hawk Moth_ tried to get you to come home _minutes_ before an akuma emerged?” Marinette asked, arching an eyebrow incredulously. “You don’t _really_ think that, do you?”

He didn’t look at her. “It doesn’t change anything.”

That much was true. It _didn’t_ change anything. Just because he seemed to still possess a modicum of concern for the welfare of his son didn’t excuse everything else Gabriel did. Still maintaining a few good qualities wasn’t enough to redeem him. It never would be. Marinette didn’t used to have any trouble seeing that. But since last night… since she witnessed just how much pain this was causing Adrien, she found herself looking for something, _anything,_ that meant it wasn’t too late. Anything that would mean Adrien wouldn’t be forced into conflict with his father.

But it _was_ too late for that. It was too late for that back when the first akuma appeared. That was the moment Gabriel Agreste had thrown down the gauntlet. That was the moment they chose their sides, the moment they chose to use their own miraculouses to oppose him. There was nothing to be done about it now. Revelations about identities wouldn’t change that.

“You’re scared,” she noted.

It wasn’t a question.

“Where did you get that idea?”

Marinette frowned.

“Chat,” she called gently, shifting a little closer to him – to show _solidarity,_ not because she found him almost offensively attractive and wanted nothing more than to kiss him senseless, _shut up, brain._ “Chat, look. I know you’re trying to put on a brave face, and I get it. But you can’t bottle your feelings up like this.”

She winced slightly at her tone, suddenly aware just how much she sounded like a concerned parent without even meaning to. She automatically steeled at the thought. Maybe that’s what he _needed_ right now; someone to parent him. Someone to be genuinely concerned about his wellbeing, and not just the fact that he’d managed to mar his perfect face with his own blood. God knows his _father_ wasn’t up to the task.

“I’m dealing with it,” came the eventual reply.

“You’re _not_ dealing with it,” she argued. “If you were dealing it, you’d be honest with me.”

She hated liars. She _hated_ them. She hated that she couldn’t be anything else. And she _especially_ hated that, despite the fact that she knew who he was, that she knew _everything,_ Adrien still felt like he had to be one, even with her.

Why? To spare her _feelings?_ Fat lot of good _that_ was doing – every time he evaded, she only worried about him more. She wished he could see that. Wished that he understood that trying to run away and hide it all only made everything worse. Wished that he realised the only thing he was doing was letting the terrible emotional wound that was knowing the truth about his father fester.

Automatically, her eyes flicked up to his face, memories of seeing him flung across the street all too fresh in her mind, the realisation that it could’ve been and probably _should’ve_ been her leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. She hated how familiar this situation was, and how he always shrugged it off like it was nothing, every single time.

 _You idiot,_ she wanted to say. _You absolute idiot._

_It should’ve been me._

He was going to get himself killed one day. She knew it. One day, he would die trying to protect her and she wouldn’t be able to live with herself.

Because he was Adrien.

Because he was _Chat._

Because he meant everything in the world to her and part of her was almost inclined to say she’d let it all burn to the ground if it meant keeping him safe.

She looked back out at the horizon, in some vain effort to hide how uneasy she felt. They weren’t so far apart, really. Her and Gabriel.

Just that one simple thought was enough to make her suddenly feel nauseous.

Realising how close they were, how her shoulder was rubbing up against his, Marinette found herself blushing furiously as she quickly moved away, suddenly convinced she was only making him uncomfortable. She couldn’t decide what to do, what the best course of action was here. Did he need comfort? Or space? How was she supposed to know? How could she possibly begin to imagine what he was going through? Especially when he covered it up so well?

Desperate not to think about it, she shifted even further away before leaping to her feet, running her hands through her hair before beginning to fidget with her yo-yo, anxiously spinning it in endless arcs around herself.

It was something else to focus on, something that _wasn’t_ the fact that _Adrien Agreste_ was sitting _right there_ in a skin-tight _magic catsuit._

Every now and then, she’d find herself remembering that little fact. And then she would be assaulted with a wealth of memories with new context that made her want to crawl away into a deep, dark hole where no one would ever find her and die. It was embarrassing enough before, but it was _impossible_ now. How Adrien could still stand to be _around_ her, she didn’t know.

“Anyway!” she called, her voice a little too loud and cheerful to be entirely natural. “Anyway. Shall we patrol?”

Adrien sighed and leaned back, sprawling himself out on the roof they were camped out on.

“Patrol for what?” he asked a little scathingly. “He’s not exactly in the habit of creating two akumas in a day.”

“Chloé,” she pointed out blandly.

Adrien didn’t seem fazed. “Granted. But I, being the _amazingly_ talented and well positioned spy that I am, happen to know he has a conference call this evening.”

“A conference call? Does your father _usually_ have conference calls this late?”

“He does when they’re international.”

Marinette pursed her lips. “You couldn’t have told me that earlier?”

“I’m telling you now,” he said dryly. “I didn’t think this was going to be a _real_ patrol, anyway.”

She blinked several times in surprise. “Why wouldn’t it be? What _else_ do we do out here, at this time?”

“Well, I don’t know, I guess… I thought you’d… uh, want to… debrief?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Debrief?”

“About us?”

“…what _about_ us?”

Finally, he sat up, twisting himself around so he could stare at her with wide, incredulous eyes. “Mari-”

_“No names in costume, Chat.”_

“Sorry,” he immediately apologised. “Slip of the tongue.”

She shook her head. “It- it’s fine. Not like it’s been very long, we’re still in the adjustment period. Did you… ah, _need_ to debrief about something?”

He chewed his lip anxiously and looked away. “I don’t… I don’t _think_ so, but shouldn’t… shouldn’t we talk? Or something?”

_“About?”_

“Last week?” he suggested. “Or yesterday? Or _Monday?”_

A shiver went up her spine at his mention of Monday. She didn’t want to think about that, about what happened, about what she did.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” she told him a little too quickly.

“You broke someone’s wrist.”

Marinette quickly closed her eyes and turned away from him at his comment, determined not to give it anymore thought than she already had. She knew he hadn’t meant it like an accusation, but part of her immediately flared up and couldn’t help but get defensive.

Quickly, she rolled her shoulders back and tried to breathe. “And?”

His reply was low, so much so she almost didn’t hear him. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Of course I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be fine?” she rambled a little breathlessly. “What about you? Are _you_ okay?”

“I’m a little insulted you have to keep asking me that,” he muttered in response. “I know I said it’s sweet when you worry, but you really shouldn’t. I’m fine.”

“You were slammed into a brick wall at high speed,” she reminded him dryly. “You actually lost consciousness for a few minutes, you hit it so hard.”

“And look at me!” he called out, jumping to his feet and elaborately gesturing at himself. “Still in as pristine condition as ever. You’ve got to have a little more faith in me.”

“I have all the faith in the world in you,” Marinette murmured. “That’s the issue.”

He stopped dead in his tracks at her words, his eyes wide and glancing up to meet her face. “What?”

“You always protect me. _Always._ I can’t think of a _single_ time you’ve had the opportunity and not taken it.”

“How is _that_ a problem?”

“It’s a _problem_ because it means _you_ get hurt in _my_ place,” she retorted, sounding far more hostile than intended. “Like today. Like… like the whole Dark Cupid thing!”

A shiver went up her spine at the memory, before the blood rushed to her cheeks from the subsequent realisation, so fast she almost fainted.

_Adrien Agreste._

He was _Adrien Agreste._

He was-

And she’d-

Oh no.

Oh, _god._

One more thing she was determined never to think about again.

“Are we _seriously_ having this argument again?” he asked, drawing her back into reality.

“I just- …I _wish_ you wouldn’t take hits for me,” she whispered, her voice low and hoarse, despite all her efforts to hide just how much this was upsetting her.

It used to be fine. Well, maybe not _fine,_ but she used to be able to deal with it. She’d known there wasn’t any way she could convince him to change, and eventually she’d learned to accept that as part of how they worked as a team. But _now…_

Identity reveals changed everything. And, frustratingly, nothing.

Her words earned a rueful smile from him and little else. “Stop leaping into danger, and I’ll stop putting myself between you.”

She closed her eyes for a moment and let out a long, exhausted exhale. He never shifted, never budged, no matter how many times they had this fight. She didn’t know why she ever expected anything different, and yet she kept pushing, in the vain hope that he’d see her point. That he’d stop, before something terrible happened and he got himself hurt, or killed.

“You know I can’t do that,” she told him tiredly.

“Guess we’re at an impasse, then.”

“Why are you being so stubborn about this? How many times do we have to _have_ this stupid argument before you’ll actually _listen_ to me?”

“You purified the akuma, no one died, and Paris is safe for another day. What’s the problem?”

“The _problem,”_ she began thunderously, “is that you _threw_ yourself in front of a blast that could’ve _killed_ you!”

“Yeah, and if I _hadn’t,_ it would’ve nearly killed _you,”_ he retorted. “How is that better?”

“I’m not made of _glass,_ Chat!” she had to stop herself from outright screaming at him. “I can take a couple of hits if I have to.”

“I don’t _want_ you to have to,” he bit back just as viciously. “That’s the whole _point.”_

“That’s _not_ the whole point you _know_ it,” she snapped back at him, maybe a little harsher than she intended, but that ship had already sailed. “There are more important things for you to focus on in a fight than my wellbeing.”

“Sure there are,” he agreed, nodding his head a little. “Like the akumas, which, _oh yeah,_ split into a thousand clones of themselves if left alone, and can _only_ be captured and purified by _you.”_

Marinette chewed her lip, uncomfortable. “That doesn’t-”

“That’s _fact,”_ he cut across her. “We’ve seen it happen. You can’t dispute that.”

“And I’ve _survived_ hits from akumas perfectly fine. _You_ can’t dispute _that.”_

“Just because you can take it, doesn’t mean you _should,”_ he argued. “You’re the only one capable of stopping it from getting worse. That makes you the priority.”

His voice was low and cold, almost completely devoid of emotion. A shiver went up Marinette’s spine at the thought – that had only ever been a warning sign that something serious was going on in his head. She didn’t like it when he got like this; when he buried his emotions and went out of his way to be as cold and logical as humanly possible. He didn’t feel like _him_ anymore. Pragmatism and ruthlessness didn’t suit him.

It was times like this when Marinette realised just how much like his father he could be.

And it _terrified_ her.

“You have _got_ to be kidding me,” she bemoaned loudly. “We’ve been _over_ this. Equal partners. Equal importance. Equal priorities.”

He groaned and closed his eyes. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

_You stubborn, overprotective, beautiful idiot._

“And I don’t want  _you_ to get hurt,” she pointed out. “And when you _are_ hurt, it hurts _me_ too. Why can’t you _see_ that?”

He didn’t seem to have anything to say to that, so they fell into an uneasy silence.

It was starting to feel like they could argue about this forever without getting anywhere. Marinette let out a long, exhausted exhale, realising that all either of them could do was agree to disagree. He was going to protect her, whether she liked it or not. He’d never asked for her permission before, he wasn’t going to start now. Adrien Agreste or not.

“Sorry, Chat. I don’t mean to yell,” she managed after too long. “You just- …you really scared me today.”

He just stood there, on the edge of the roof, casually stretching out his tired muscles.

“I know,” he murmured, rolling his shoulders back. “I’m sorry too. Things are just- it’s weird.”

 _That_ was an understatement if ever there was one.

“At least talk to me before doing something stupid next time.”

“No promises,” he replied, a small smile pulling at his lips. “Race you?”

Marinette blinked several times as he winked at her, before gracefully letting himself fall backwards off the roof, plummeting to the ground below.

“I- wha… _Chat!”_ she shouted as she watched his silhouette vault up on top of a building across the road, before she pulled out her yo-yo and swung off after him.


	3. Thursday

“I _have_ to interview him.”

At the sound of Alya’s voice, Marinette’s head slipped from her hand, landing on the desk with a _thud_ that caused everyone who heard it to wince.

“That sounded like it hurt. You okay, girl?” Alya called, her tone both amused and concerned at the same time.

“Yeah, I’m… fine,” Marinette grunted in response, not moving from where she’d crumpled on the desk as a thudding pain in her forehead made itself known. “Who… who are you interviewing?”

“Chat Noir, of course!” her friend replied, like it was blindingly obvious – which it probably was, if she thought about it for more than half a second. “Ladybug’s given me an interview before; do you think she could convince Chat Noir to do the same?”

Marinette bolted upright, her gaze quickly landing on Adrien’s back as her brain scrambled to come up with an answer. She couldn’t let Alya interview Adrien, because _of course_ she couldn’t. That was _insane._ It was insane and stupid and dangerous, and she _couldn’t._ She loved Alya and she didn’t like to lie to her, but some things were just off-limits. Identities and anything that could compromise them especially.

For a brief few _glorious_ days, she’d forgotten all about the Ladyblog, and Alya’s dogged obsession with her costumed alter-ego; too distracted by everything else going on. It was just one more thing to think about; one more potential threat to their safety to manage, one more problem to solve. They were getting so numerous now Marinette had to be careful not to lose track of it all.

Besides, he was sitting _right there._

“Why do you want to?” she asked, anxiously trying to steer the topic of the conversation away from anything that would end in her agreeing to a promise she knew she couldn’t and wouldn’t keep. “Interview him, I mean?”

“Are you _kidding?_ He wasn’t there for the akuma battle on Monday, but showed up to yesterday’s like normal.”

“So?”

 _“So,_ what happened on Monday?” Alya pressed, growing increasingly excitable with every passing second. “In fact, a bunch of people on the Ladyblog forums have said the last time anyone saw him before yesterday was _Saturday_ night. That’s _three days_ he wasn’t accounted for.”

Marinette swallowed uncomfortably, unable to keep herself from staring at the boy seated directly in front of her, diligently doing his schoolwork. Was he listening? Was he hearing this? Or was he too determined to keep ploughing on with life like everything was fine to pay any attention to what was happening around him?

A shiver went up her spine at the thought.

No. Adrien was too observant and careful to not be listening. He was just very good at not showing it.

She exhaled quietly and tried to calm herself. This was getting a little too uncomfortably close to the truth. She loved Alya, she really did, but she had to head this off before it got dangerous. Or _more_ dangerous.

She didn’t want to think about it, anyway. Didn’t want to think about Saturday night, about the dawning horror as she slowly managed to connect the dots, about Adrien’s small, sad smile as he slid off the roof of the estate and out of her grasp for what at the time had seemed like forever. Even now, with everything between them sorted out and it all out in the open, it was painful. Too painful to think about. The last thing she needed was for that fight to become public knowledge.

“Something _obviously_ happened,” Alya continued, blissfully unaware of Marinette’s souring mood. “And any journalist worth their salt would be trying to find out what.”

Marinette was only half listening now, frantically going over any and every excuse she could possibly come with to explain the events of the last week. Maybe she could give Alya another interview as Ladybug, and casually mention that Chat had gone off on a solo mission for a few days, or maybe she could say he’d been sick and she’d ordered him to stay in and recover, or maybe…

She didn’t know. She’d have to confer with Adrien first, whatever she did. Although she was confident he’d automatically go along with whatever lie she came up with, it seemed right she consulted him about it beforehand. Her lies would be affecting him more than her, after all. He’d probably even be able to come up with something better, something a little more plausible. Whatever they decided to do, however they decided to explain this all away, Marinette knew they’d be stuck in damage control for a lot longer than either of them wanted.

This was one of the worst parts of being Ladybug, she decided. All the lies, the deception, manipulating everyone around her until they believed what she wanted, it was right up there with seeing the people she cared about get hurt because of her.

“There are rumours going around that they’ve been fighting a lot lately,” Nino supplied dryly, not looking up from his work.

Alya arched an eyebrow at him and folded her arms.

“Nino,” she tutted like a disappointed adult. “You were eavesdropping on me?”

Nino shrugged nonchalantly. “Couldn’t help it. You’re pretty loud.”

Alya pulled a face at that, but ultimately let it go. “I’ll forgive you this time because that’s actually interesting. What’s this rumour? Ladybug and Chat Noir are _fighting?”_

“You didn’t know? I thought you _ran_ the Ladyblog?”

“I _do!”_ Alya protested indignantly. “No one told me they were fighting!”

“You’ve got to get better sources, babe.”

 _“Thank you_ for that _amazingly_ helpful advice, Nino, I’ll work on that,” Alya drawled back at him, doing absolutely nothing to mask the dripping sarcasm in her tone.

Marinette groaned quietly and buried her face in her hands, not sure what else to do. It seemed like they couldn’t do anything discreetly. Was it so much to hope that they could go a few days _without_ their every interaction becoming the subject of rumours? Normally, it wouldn’t bother her. But normally, Ladybug and Chat Noir didn’t blow up at each other while on patrol. It should’ve occurred to her that having a loud argument on a rooftop wasn’t exactly the most private thing ever. She should’ve realised this would come back to bite her.

It was just more damage control.

“What do you think?” Nino abruptly asked Adrien, nudging him a little.

“Hm?” Adrien responded, his head snapping up. “What?”

Alya grinned devilishly. “Theories on Chat Noir’s recent disappearance. Got anything to contribute, Agreste?”

Adrien blinked several times, looking distinctly uncomfortable. At that point, Marinette couldn’t exactly blame him. She wished she’d seen this conversation coming. She wished she’d had the foresight to head it off before he got dragged into it. She wished they had more time to figure their complicated and tangled web of lies rather both being forced to make them up on the spot.

It wasn’t supposed to be this hard.

“I-” he began a little awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck – something Marinette now recognised as a tell-tale sign of growing anxiety. “Uh… I hadn’t thought about it.”

“You _hadn’t thought about it?”_ Alya repeated in disbelief.

Adrien shrugged innocently. “It didn’t seem like that big a deal.”

“Dude, it was only _everywhere,”_ Nino pointed out. “Everyone was talking about how he bailed on Ladybug. How did you _miss_ that?”

Adrien paled at Nino’s words, recoiling slightly and keeping his head down. Marinette’s heart sank at his reaction, even if Alya and Nino didn’t seem to notice it. But she didn’t have to see his expression to know what he was feeling. She knew guilt when she saw it.

Guilt over leaving.

Guilt over trying to get out.

Guilt over his father.

Was that it, then? Why he kept recklessly throwing himself into danger whenever it came close? Was _that_ why he was so determined to protect her under any circumstances, regardless of the cost to himself? Was it _guilt?_

She _had_ to talk to him. She had to corner him somewhere and they had to hash out everything in what she knew was likely to be an excruciatingly long conversation neither of them really _wanted_ to have. He’d tried to do exactly that yesterday at patrol, she realised, but she’d been too distracted by his injury to take the bait.

How did she _miss_ that? Was she really _that_ self-absorbed, that completely unaware of the people around her?

“You don’t know that’s what happened,” she argued back at Nino before she could do anything to stop herself. “You’re just making stuff up without knowing the context.”

_Context._

_What?_

_You don’t have it._

A small shiver went up Marinette’s spine at the memory, before she almost immediately shoved it aside. It was done. It was _over._ They had their arguments, their misunderstanding. They’d sorted it, and it was all fine now.

Except, it wasn’t.

Because here they were, stuck doing damage control and trying to protect themselves when they both _knew_ that there was something far bigger and more dangerous to worry about. Because Gabriel Agreste was still Hawk Moth, and despite all her efforts to stay focused and on-task, they _still_ didn’t have a plan.

She _hated_ not having a plan. She _should_ have a plan.

“And besides,” she choked out as she fought to stay in the present, _“whatever_ happened, there was probably a really good reason for it.”

There _had_ been a good reason. She knew that. _Adrien_ knew that.

Or at least, she _hoped_ he did.

“So, what do _you_ think happened, Marinette?” Alya asked, arching an eyebrow curiously.

 _I think he found out his father was Hawk Moth and was so terrified of the potential consequences of having a miraculous so close to his enemy that he did the only thing that seemed right at the time,_ she thought scathingly. _I think he made a huge sacrifice and gave up everything important to him in a desperate attempt to keep the world – and me – safe from the situation he’s trapped in and can’t ever escape from._

She winced at the thought. It was possible she was feeling a little protective of her partner – more so than usual. Because as much as it had destroyed her to see him leave, she wasn’t for a moment going to pretend it hadn’t been for a good reason. And just as well, really, considering the agonised look on his face as he watched her with bated breath, waiting for her to answer.

“It’s not important,” she ground out. “I think it’s between them and if they want to keep it private, then people shouldn’t speculate.”

Alya pouted and called her a spoilsport, but Adrien gave her a small, shaky, but grateful smile for rushing impulsively to his defence. Marinette returned his smile and nodded ever so slightly, trying to silently and discreetly reassure him.

She needed a plan. Now more than ever.

 _“Ahem,”_ the voice of Mlle Bustier called out abruptly, causing Marinette, Alya, Nino, and Adrien to all immediately stiffen in surprise. “If you four are _quite finished,_ there’s work for you to focus on. You can talk after class.”

Marinette felt heat rush to her cheeks and she immediately looked down, staring absently at the desk and hoping against hope that if she was silent and still for long enough, everyone would eventually forget she ever existed in the first place. But she knew she wasn’t off to a good start when she heard Chloé let out a shout of disdainful laughter from across the classroom, delighting in the fact that she’d just witnessed Marinette get told off.

Why.

Why did she exist.

What did Adrien _see_ in her?

Her fuming at Chloé was quickly interrupted when Alya slid a small piece of scrap paper towards her, covered in her best friend’s distinctive barely legible scrawl.

_‘Not dating’, huh? That was honestly the first conversation I’ve seen you have with him without completely falling apart. Seriously, I want details. ASAP._

Marinette’s spare hand clenched into a tight fist as she penned a furious reply, carefully ignoring anything and everything else in the entire world.

_We’re **not** dating. Keep out of it._

She’d completely forgotten about that – about her stupid crush, about her usually painfully shy and awkward demeanour, about her almost habit of compulsively forgetting what words were every single time she was within five feet of Adrien. She’d been so caught up in valiantly leaping to Chat Noir’s defence that she’d completely forgotten to be _Marinette._

She gritted her teeth angrily at the thought. It wasn’t fair. How did she get to a point where even _Marinette_ was a mask? She was never going to be able to simply be herself around anyone ever again. At this point, she wasn’t sure what _being herself_ was anymore. Ladybug was a front, a pretend version of herself she projected to distance that identity from her civilian one. But now so was Marinette. There didn’t seem to be a real identity anymore, or a single side of her that wasn’t somehow a lie.

How _dare_ things still be this confusing, even after all her efforts to sort everything out. How dare her own damn feelings make her second-guess everything, _still._ She’d had enough of this.

All she could do from that point on was simply sit there and silently stew in her own anger and frustration – at herself, at Gabriel, at her friends, at Hawk Moth, at Adrien, at her own distinct lack of any kind of plan, at _Gabriel Agreste,_ and most of all, at Hawk Moth – even though it was very quickly getting her absolutely nowhere.

Why did it have to be so complicated? No one ever said it would be this complicated.

She didn’t want to do this. She shouldn’t _have_ to do this. She was _fourteen._

Finally, _mercifully,_ class eventually ended. Marinette jumped up the instant the bell rang, hastily grabbing up her things and frantic to make a quick escape. She needed to get out of here. She needed to distract herself for a little while, and she knew the only way she was going to be able to do that was to transform and spend the next ten hours or so aimlessly zipping around Paris, under the pretence of assessing tactical points they could use if and when she ever came up with a battle plan beyond _one hundred cans of bug spray._

“So, _Adrien,”_ Alya began, with a devious grin that made Marinette’s blood run cold. “How was Friday?”

Adrien stopped dead in his tracks before twisting around to face her, looking utterly confused. “Um, Friday?”

“Marinette’s being coy, so I thought I’d ask you,” Alya called sweetly, casually ignoring the bright scarlet that immediately blossomed across Marinette’s face.

Adrien’s gaze shifted to her as well now, still thoroughly confused. Marinette couldn’t help but remain rooted to the spot, frantically gesturing at him to _please go along with it_ while being careful to stay out of Alya’s line of sight.

“…it- it was fine?” he managed after a tense pause, his eyes never quite leaving Marinette’s face.

“Can’t have been that bad a fight then,” Alya observed, still grinning.

Adrien automatically stiffened at the mention of the fight, glancing back at Marinette and silently pleading for help which they both knew she couldn’t give. It was all she could do to just stand there and _pray_ that whatever he came up with was consistent with what Alya already knew. No doubt she was trying to trip one of them up, so she could catch them in an apparent lie and use it against them.

Marinette had to resist the almost overwhelming urge to groan. No matter what happened, no matter what they did or said, Alya would probably only see it as an elaborate cover-up. She’d never been entirely subtle in her efforts to get them together, there was no way she’d be subtle about trying to confirm it.

And really, Marinette would _love_ to confirm it for her, but the fact of the matter was that it was more complicated than that.

“We, uh… we figured it out,” Adrien choked out eventually. “It was just a misunderstanding.”

“Uh huh. Misunderstanding about what, exactly?”

 _“Nothing!”_ Marinette had to stop herself from outright screaming, all but throwing herself across her desk in an effort to interrupt the conversation and prevent Adrien from giving Alya any more information than what he already had. “Nothing. It’s not important.”

 _“Interesting,”_ Alya breathed, looking _way_ too pleased with herself. “Just _how_ long have you been secretly seeing each other?”

Adrien opened his mouth to reply, but almost immediately thought better of it.

“It’s _not important,”_ Marinette insisted feebly. “Just let it go, Alya, _please.”_

“What’re you guys talking about?” Nino asked absently, still gathering up his things.

“Our best friends started dating and didn’t tell anyone,” Alya practically sang at him, almost vibrating with excitement.

There was a loud _smack_ as Marinette’s hand collided with her forehead. Best friend or no, she was mere inches away from _murdering_ Alya. Was it so much to ask that she’d held off on doing this for maybe a few hours? Or at least wait until they were _out of the classroom?_

It was too late now, anyway. Nino’s reaction told her that much.

 _“What?”_ he gasped in surprise, before rounding on Adrien, who seemed just as shocked at Alya’s words. “You guys are _dating?_ Dude, you never told me!”

Adrien blinked several times, glancing over at Marinette. “Wait, we’re dating? Since _when?”_

“No!” she had to stop herself from screaming. “No, we’re _not!”_

“Oh, just _admit it,_ you two,” Alya sighed. “Honestly, you both might be the world’s most oblivious dorks, but given the chemistry you’ve got going on, it was practically _inevitable.”_

Both Marinette and Adrien exchanged an awkward glance for a moment, before they both burst into a flurry of protests, frantically talking over top of each other in their efforts to deny absolutely everything.

“It’s not like-”

“We’re not-”

“I mean, Marinette isn’t-”

“Adrien doesn’t-”

“Where did you even-”

“You’re just assuming-”

“Why is it such a big deal, anyway?” Adrien managed finally, trying desperately to hide how flushed with embarrassment he was, although his efforts were in vain.

“And besides, it _wasn’t_ a date,” Marinette finished a little lamely, equally as red.

They were never going to live this down. She knew that now. Their fates were sealed and Alya was never going to be convinced otherwise.

Indeed, she just laughed at their arguments, and nudged Nino knowingly. “See? What did I tell you? _Dating.”_

“I have to go,” Adrien said in a rush, quickly turning around and making a beeline for the exit, almost making a point of not looking back at any of them.

 _“Seriously,_ Alya?” Marinette barked angrily at her best friend, not bothering to hide just how much she was fuming as she stalked off towards the classroom door herself. “What part of _keep out of it_ is so _impossible_ for you to understand?”

Whether Alya replied or not, Marinette didn’t know. She’d well and truly stopped listening by that point, focused solely on catching up with Adrien and…

And, what, exactly? What did she plan to do? Talk to him? Apologise for her own sheer stupidity, which had undoubtedly been what originally sparked Alya’s interest to begin with? Ugh, she was so _bad_ at this.

“Adrien!” she called, rushing down the stairs to meet him – and through some divine miracle, somehow managing not to trip over herself in doing so. “Wait up!”

For a moment, she didn’t think he would. He’d been so keen to exit the conversation before, part of her was convinced he’d casually ignore her and disappear outside with everyone else. Instead, he paused, just for a moment, before quickly manoeuvring his way through the crowd of students to meet her at the bottom of the stairs, despite how much he obviously didn’t want to be there.

He was so good. Too good. Way too good for her.

“You… me… we… we need to talk,” she rasped between desperate, gasping breaths for air.

Adrien’s brow creased, and he anxiously glanced around at the other students passing by, carefully searching for anything that would imply they were being eavesdropped on. Marinette didn’t know why he bothered. They could just as easily speak in vague non-descriptors and know exactly what they were talking about. It wasn’t _that_ hard.

“Yeah, I guess we do,” he agreed. “You could’ve _warned_ me that Alya knew about Friday.”

“I didn’t think she’d bring it up like that!” she insisted a little defensively. “Argh, I’m so sorry. I told her I had to meet someone on Friday and she’s been harassing me non-stop about it ever since.”

“And… somehow she gets _Adrien and Marinette are dating_ out of that?”

“I _may_ have told her I was meeting you? Like, _you-_ you? She may have jumped to some erroneous conclusions. And is now refusing to see reason, apparently.”

He arched an eyebrow at her, but ultimately didn’t reply. Marinette kept her down, shifting from side to side awkwardly, trying to ignore the heat that quickly rushed to her cheeks and remained a constant reminder of how much she didn’t want to be here, having this conversation right now.

“Well, it was technically true,” she mumbled after an agonising pause. “She just… knows that I’ve… uh, well, that I- that I’ve _liked_ you for a really long time. So, she… well, she kind of blows things out of proportion. I’m sorry. Oh god, Adrien, I’m _really_ sorry. I didn’t think- …I didn’t think she’d make a deal out of it, but I probably should’ve known. I’m sorry you got dragged into it.”

He smiled crookedly. “Hey, it’s fine. I get it. We probably need to start covering for each other anyway.”

“You’re not mad? About her automatically assuming we’re together?”

“Oh no, someone has assumed I’m dating a girl I’ve been hopelessly crushing on practically since I first _met_ her,” he deadpanned. “Oh dear. How terrible. How will I ever survive?”

“Adrien…” she groaned his name, even as her stomach did little flips over his oh so casual admission of liking her. _Her._ Maybe _Ladybug-_ her, but _her._ Somehow, that was more unbelievable than anything else. _Including_ the magic, the superpowers, and the evil corruption butterflies.

Was this happening?

Was this _real?_

“I will never recover from this slight against me,” he continued, going into a thoroughly melodramatic and overly theatrical faint as he went on. “I have soiled my family’s good name and must retire to the country in disgrace, never to be seen nor heard from again. Oh, the _scandal.”_

“Adrien, _stop.”_

“You know this means we’re going to have to start _actually_ dating now. For the sake of appearances.”

She folded her arms and huffed. “Adrien Agreste, your Chat Noir is showing.”

His smile almost immediately fell at that, which caused Marinette to bite her lip in regret. She didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. She’d been hoping to achieve the exact _opposite_ of that.

“Seriously though, it’s okay,” he assured her quietly, after a brief pause. “I don’t mind.”

“But everyone’s going to think-”

“I don’t _care_ what they think,” he cut across her, his eyes wide and earnest, before he let out a breathless chuckle. “Huh. This might be the first time in my life that’s actually been true.”

That, more than anything else, surprised her. Adrien had never struck her as a particularly self-conscious or insecure person; but given how easily he hid the truth from everyone, it shouldn’t have come as that much of a shock. Actually, the more she considered it, the more his reaction to certain things made sense.

“B-but anyway, it’s not important. That’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Okay, so…?” he prompted.

“I just, uh… I- I wanted to make sure you’re okay,” she whispered, hating herself as her voice faltered. “What Alya and Nino were saying, _before,_ I mean, about Ladybug and Chat Noir… it’s not true. You didn’t bail on me.”

His jaw clenched at that, but ultimately, he didn’t answer.

So, Marinette just ploughed on, not sure what else to do.

“Not that it matters anyhow, because you’re back and everything is fine, so we can put this all behind us and focus on the task at hand, which is stopping Hawk-” she cut off abruptly upon realising that they were still surrounded by people, “…uh, doing that thing, you know, that thing with your- …with _you-know-who,_ but the point is _you’re back_ and none of that other stuff matters because we’re past it and everything is a-okay and you’re back and-”

“They’re right, though. I shouldn’t have done it.”

_“Adrien…”_

He let out a quiet groan and raked his hand through his hair in some attempt to focus himself before he began to anxiously twist his ring around his finger.

Guilt.

It was all so clear now, so painfully obvious in everything he said and did. He was trying desperately to atone for something she’d never blamed him for.

“I should’ve been there,” he whispered.

She winced. “What happened on Monday wasn’t your fault.”

It wasn’t his fault. She knew that. She’d always known that – even as it was happening. As much as it had upset her, as much as it had pained her at the time, she’d never blamed him. How could she, knowing the position he was in? There were only so many options, and he’d taken what had been the safest one. She didn’t – she _couldn’t_ – blame him for trying to protect her.

She knew that.

She _knew_ that.

She could only hope that maybe, one day, Adrien would know that too.

“I- I just…” he began, furiously rubbing the back of his neck and struggling to breathe in a normal, calm, collected manner, “I don’t know. I don’t know if we’re doing the right thing. If me even _being_ here is the right thing.”

Marinette stopped dead in her tracks. The last time she’d heard him talk like that…

_It’s better if I don’t know. It’s… safer._

_See you, Bugaboo. I have to hope we don’t cross paths again. For both our sakes._

No.

She wasn’t going through that again.

Never again.

“Can I tell you something?” she asked, her voice low and shaky.

“Of course,” he responded, trying not to sound as confused as he looked by her response.

“The worst thing about what happened on Monday wasn’t the fight,” she murmured, not meeting his eye. “It wasn’t that I got hurt or that I had to break that girl’s wrist. I mean, it was _all_ bad, obviously. But the worst part of all of it was the fact that I had to go through it all knowing you weren’t going to be there. That you weren’t going to rush in and save me.”

He didn’t reply.

Because of course he didn’t.

“I know how much this means to you,” she continued, her voice barely more than a hoarse whisper. “How much all of this _means_ to you. The fact that you were so ready and willing to give it all up just to keep me safe… that means everything. Really. But despite all that… or maybe _because_ of that… Saturday was one of the _worst_ nights of my life, Adrien. That’s how bad it was for me. I can’t imagine what it was like for you.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, again, now with that all too familiar agonised expression. “I didn’t mean- …I didn’t even _think-”_

“Don’t be sorry. It’s my fault everything got so bad in the first place. I should’ve just _listened_ to you.”

“You _did_ listen to me.”

“Not when it counted,” she mumbled sullenly. _“I_ was the one who backed you into that corner. _I_ was the one who pushed it so far. It’s _my_ fault, not yours. I have to live with that. _I_ have to be the one to fix it.”

“He’s _my_ father,” he pointed out dryly.

“You’re not your father,” she argued. “You aren’t responsible for him.”

“Neither are you,” he shot back. “And before you say something about it being your responsibility as Ladybug – equal partners. Equal importance. Equal priorities.”

She pursed her lips. “You know I hate it when you use my own words against me.”

“Better stop giving such good advice, then,” he told her with sly smile. “We’re stuck in this together. And honestly, there’s no one else I’d rather do this with.”

The corners of Marinette’s lips twitched with the faintest hint of a smile. She didn’t know what to do. Didn’t know how to reply. Didn’t know how to take that.

“You’re… serious, aren’t you?”

His eyes narrowed at that. “Serious about what?”

“Liking me,” she whispered, unable to do anything to stop herself from blushing furiously.

His eyes narrowed slightly. “You thought I wasn’t?”

Marinette looked away, thoroughly uncomfortable now. “I- I don’t know. You always liked Ladybug and she’s… not a real person. Not really. And besides, after you- …after I- _…you know…_ you haven’t… you stopped calling me your lady. I guess… I don’t know what I thought.”

“I-” Adrien began, only to almost immediately cut himself off. _“What?”_

“Guess I can’t help but feel I ruined Ladybug for you.”

 _“That’s_ what you thought?”

She couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t face him. This was even worse than trying to talk to him on Tuesday. She kept her head down as her brain rushed through a million excuses, anxious to get away from him quickly so she’d never have to deal with the mess that was her feelings ever again.

How did this happen?

How did finding out his identity only confuse her _more?_

“That’s- …no,” he murmured, too dumbfounded by her to say much more than that. “No, no, _no._ Marinette. Come on. I _stopped_ because I was worried it was freaking _you_ out. You know, what with it being _me_ calling you that. I… I didn’t want to scare you off even more.”

Marinette blinked several times in surprise. “You’re not serious.”

Her voice was strangely flat and emotionless, considering just how close she was to suffering a complete mental breakdown.

“Of course I’m serious,” he told her quietly, gently gripping her shoulders as he leaned in close. “Mari, when I said I was glad… I _meant_ it.”

_I’m glad it’s you._

He’d meant it.

It should’ve been obvious, really. She should’ve known that back when he said it. It should’ve occurred to her that he wouldn’t just _say_ something like that if it wasn’t true. She would’ve thought she knew him well enough to know _that,_ at least. But being here, hearing him say that, that he _meant_ it…

It was everything to her.

“You’ll always be my lady,” he whispered, his lips now less than an inch away from hers.

In that moment, Marinette stopped breathing. She couldn’t remember how to get her lungs to work. _Adrien Agreste_ was _right there_ and saying things about her being his lady and he was _so close_ and he was _Adrien_ and _Chat Noir_ at the _same time_ and oh god, how was her brain supposed to work, again?

He was so close and all she’d have to do was lean in, close what remained of the miniscule gap between them and then she’d be _kissing_ him; she’d been fantasising about this moment pretty much since the moment he gave her his umbrella that afternoon and oh god, it was _happening,_ it was happening _right now,_ at this _very moment_ and sirens may as well have been going off in her brain because this was not supposed to be happening and he was _so_ close, they were _so close,_ and every fibre in her being was _screaming_ at her to kiss him, kiss him right now, kiss him senseless and never let him go, _ever._

And then, just as it all seemed so perfect, he abruptly pulled away.

“I- I shouldn’t…” he stammered out uselessly, apparently keen to get as far from the situation as possible, as quickly as possible. “I shouldn’t keep people waiting.”

Heat rushed to Marinette’s cheeks and she too, pulled back several paces, frantically rubbing her face in some vain effort to reassert reality as she watched him turn heel and practically flee from her.

 _Oh my god,_ was the only thought her brain managed to have, and kept repeating unhelpfully. _Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh, my god._

“Marinette?” she heard Alya call through the thick mental fog that had taken over everything. “Hey. Mari. Mari? You okay?”

_Oh my god._

“Whoa. She’s gone like, catatonic.”

_Oh my god._

“She’s fine. Mari? Hello? Earth to Marinette? C’mon girl, don’t flake out on me like this. What the hell happened?”

 “Dunno. Maybe something about Adrien almost kissing her just now?”

 “He _what?!_ Okay Marinette, I totally get why you’re doing this now, but I need you to re-engage with reality again, please.”

_Oh my god._

“You’re fighting a losing battle there Alya.”

“Okay. Fine. Marinette’s gone to the world and I am going to kick Adrien Agreste’s ass next time I see him.”

“Good luck with that.”

“You’re no help. Marinette? You okay?”

Finally, her eyes flicked up to meet Alya’s. “Oh… my god? _Oh my god.”_

Alya huffed angrily. “Yeah. Going to kill him.”

Marinette wished she could say something. Wished she could at least pretend to function like a normal human being who doesn’t have a complete mental and emotional breakdown over something so inconsequential.

But she couldn’t.

Because it was huge.

It was earth-shattering.

And she didn’t know what to do.

_Oh my god._


	4. Friday

Marinette barely slept that night. She didn’t even seem to notice the passage of time even as light slowly filled her room, until it was streaming in through the window, forcing her to be painfully aware that it was the morning of a new day and she’d just spent the last twelve hours or so mindlessly staring at her ceiling, completely at a loss.

He’d almost kissed her.

 _He_ had almost kissed _her._

 _He_ was the one to lean in so close. _He_ was the one being weird and coming in close and flirting – _had_ that been flirting? It was so gentle and quiet and sincere and so entirely _Adrien_ and so utterly _not-Chat_ she honestly couldn’t tell – this was all squarely on him. She wasn’t to blame here. She couldn’t be. She’d just wanted to make sure he was okay, what with everything going on. That whole almost-kiss thing, _he_ had been the one to initiate it.

And the one to break it off.

Why? Was it her? Had it been something she did? Something she _said?_ Maybe he didn’t actually like her at all, and this was all some cruel, sick, twisted joke?

“Ugh… he hates me,” Marinette wailed, quickly throwing her bedspread over herself in utter despair. “He hates me and thinks I’m stupid and incompetent and that’s why he pulled away, he’s never going to talk to me _again-”_

“Marinette,” Tikki groaned her name, clearly too exhausted to deal with this. “You need to calm down.”

 _“Calm down?”_ Marinette repeated, peeking out from her cocoon of blankets. “He _pulled away.”_

“That doesn’t mean anything about you.”

“That means _everything_ about me!” she practically screamed at the kwami. “Why else would he do that?”

Tikki seemed to have to physically restrain herself from rolling her eyes to the sky and back. It was odd, seeing any kind genuine exasperation from her. The kwami was usually so quiet and clam and restrained, offering her classic brand of sage advice and wisdom without judgement.

 _“Marinette,”_ she called sharply. “You only found out who each other are recently, and you’re still working out how to move forward from that. _You’ve_ been agonising over that exact issue for almost a _week_ now. On top of that, his _father_ is _Hawk Moth._ He’s _hurt_ and _confused.”_

Marinette scowled. “So, you think he only likes me because he’s not thinking straight?”

“No, I think he has liked you for a very long time and is trying to find some constant in his life that he can hold onto. I think his entire life has very recently fallen apart and you’re the only one who really knows and understands what’s going on.”

“So why didn’t he go through with it?” Marinette wailed. “What did I _do?_ Did I turn him away without meaning to?”

 _“No._ It wasn’t anything you did.”

“But he-”

Tikki folded her arms and huffed irritably. “Marinette. Adrien isn’t in a good place. What he needs now isn’t a relationship – it’s a friend.”

“I don’t want to be his friend!” Marinette had to stop herself from screaming. “I mean- …argh! Yes, I want to be his friend. Of course. _Obviously._ I just…”

“Want more?” Tikki prompted.

Marinette sat quite still and nodded meekly, feeling the heat rush to her cheeks. It sounded so pathetic and childish when said like that. Maybe it _was._ A shiver went up her spine at the thought; the disaster that had been their respective identity reveals had been caused by a similar mindset of hers. By her focusing on something that wasn’t the point, on refusing to understand the full weight of the situation. And Adrien deserved better than that. Their partnership deserved better than that.

She scowled slightly at the thought. It would be a whole lot easier to be mindful of his emotional state if he ever bothered to acknowledge that it was affecting him in the first place. Because his father was Hawk Moth and she refused to believe him when he said it was fine. Not now. Not after everything they’d been through. Not after the breakdown she’d witnessed him have Tuesday night.

“Maybe it will happen,” Tikki continued softly. “Maybe it won’t. But now isn’t the right time. I think you _both_ know that.”

“Do we?” Marinette asked sourly.

“He pulled away,” came the reply. “And you let him.”

Her phone beeped then, signalling that she had a new text message. Eager to stop having that conversation with Tikki, Marinette lunged for it, quickly snatching it up off her desk, only to almost immediately drop it and bite back a small scream when she saw who it was from.

_Can’t make it to school today, princess, there’s a photo shoot I can’t get out of. Looks like this evening isn’t happening either. Don’t worry, my father hasn’t murdered me. Yet. See you tomorrow?_

Marinette gazed wide-eyed at her phone for what seemed like a thousand years, reading the text over and over again, not quite sure what to do about it. Not quite sure what to think. Still half convinced it wasn’t actually _real._ It _couldn’t_ be real.

 _Adrien texts in full words and proper sentences,_ was her first coherent thought.

Quickly followed by; _Adrien Agreste just texted me._

_Adrien Agreste has my phone number?_

She shook her head. Of course he had her phone number. She already knew that. She just never expected anything to come of it. Certainly not an actual message. Certainly not one that involved him calling her _princess._ That had always been Chat’s affectionate nickname for her. Granted, they were exactly the same person, but she couldn’t pretend it wasn’t odd seeing a text from _Adrien Agreste_ refer to her in that way.

Briefly, she considered changing his contact name to _Chat Noir,_ or perhaps even _chaton,_ or _minou,_ before quickly realising the potential implications for their security and deciding against it.

No, Adrien Agreste called her princess now. She was just going to have to accept that.

But at least he’d had the forethought to go with Chat’s private nickname for _Marinette,_ and not his very public one for _Ladybug._

Considering just how hard her heart was pounding in her chest, she wasn’t sure she would’ve survived seeing a message from Adrien contain the words _my lady._ Certainly not after the conversation they’d had the day before.

“See?” Tikki called gently from over her shoulder. “That certainly doesn’t sound like someone who hates you.”

“…he texted me…” Marinette mumbled to no one in particular, her eyes still glued to her phone. “Why would he do that?”

“Maybe to stop you from jumping to conclusions when you got to school and didn’t see him there?” Tikki suggested.

Marinette huffed a little, unable to stop herself from taking offense. “It’s not like this is the first time he’s had to miss school because of his job.”

“But it _is_ the first time it’s happened since you found out Gabriel is Hawk Moth.”

…oh.

Yes.

There _was_ that.

“I… I should text back,” she murmured, still gazing at the screen absently. “I should say something. Oh god, what do I say?”

She didn’t have cute nicknames she could call him in return. None that she could use for _Adrien,_ anyway. None that wouldn’t be absolutely humiliating if anyone else found out.

Oh god, _how_ were they not in a relationship yet? With everything going on, the way they were acting around each other, they may as well have been. It was inescapable.

 _No stress,_ she hastily typed. _I’ll meet you tomorrow at the usual time and spot._

That was good. It was fine. That was perfectly normal language and he’d know what she meant without her having to say anything specific. No threats to identities involved. It was casual and friendly and didn’t imply much of anything, though she did read over it about twenty times, just to make sure.

And then, finally, she inhaled deeply, tried to ignore her heart thumping loudly in her chest, and pressed _send._

His reply was almost immediate.

_You’re my knight in shining armour, princess._

She was not prepared for this. She was in no way prepared for this. She’d never even dreamed of this happening a week ago. But here they were – being so open and nice and friendly and casual with each other and oh god, he was _Adrien_ freaking _Agreste-_

“Chat,” she whispered to herself firmly; now clutching her phone to her chest. “He’s _Chat._ Treat him like he’s Chat.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Tikki asked, worry and concern plastering her tiny face.

Marinette closed her eyes and tried to breathe. “It’s the only way I can talk to him, Tikki.”

Part of her was worried it’d be the only way she could talk to him ever again.

Anxiously, she shoved that thought aside and breathed. This was just a friendly banter over text messages with Chat Noir. She could do that. There was nothing even remotely awkward or embarrassing about that.

_Can someone be a knight and a princess at the same time?_

That was an adequately Ladybug-like response, right? She had to hope so.

Once again, she barely had to wait a minute until her phone beeped with news of a new text.

_A princess can be anything she wants as far as I’m concerned._

Marinette smiled. She couldn’t help it.

“There you are, Chat,” she murmured at her phone, still smiling.

 _“Marinette,”_ Tikki called in a warning tone.

She automatically waved the kwami off. “Yes, yes, I know. Don’t get too involved. Things are complicated. He’s going through a lot. Don’t rush into it.”

“No, Marinette,” Tikki huffed in her ear. “You’re going to be late for _school.”_

She bolted upright, like an alarm clock had suddenly set off in her brain. “Gah! Why didn’t you tell me it was getting late? Argh, even when I’m up _super early_ I still manage to be late!”

She dashed around her room then, grabbing up clothes and pulling them on without a whole lot of care. Her morning so often went this way that frantically getting ready for school had almost become second nature.

Just as she was about to rush downstairs, her phone buzzed once more, signalling yet another text. And somehow, even though they’d been messaging each other back and forth for the past fifteen minutes or so, Marinette was still surprised to see it was from Adrien, again.

_And I’m sorry. About yesterday. That wasn’t the smartest thing I’ve ever done._

Her mouth ran dry as she read the words a thousand times over, convinced she was somehow reading it wrong. It wasn’t that shocking to see him apologising, really. Nothing about it was in any way out of character for him. Maybe it was because she hadn’t expected it. Maybe it was because she had no idea what to say to that.

_It’s okay-_

No.

_Why did you-_

That’s no better.

_I wish you’d gone further-_

Definitely not.

 _We can talk about it tomorrow,_ she replied after one long, agonising moment that felt like a sheer eternity, not sure what else to say. _But I get it._

Did she? She wanted to believe that she did, but the more she thought about it, the less she was sure.

Why was this still so weird? So complicated? So damn _hard?_ Why did she always have to deal with this? Why couldn’t she ever escape the fallout of her own stupid decisions? Why couldn’t things just go the way she wanted them to, for _once?_

It was good, she told herself fiercely. It was _fine._ She could work through this. She could take this time to figure herself out and be normal by the time she saw him again. This was nothing, really. Nothing important. Barely even a hiccup in their relationship. She’d have it all sorted out by tomorrow’s patrol.

Providing, of course, that there wasn’t an akuma between now and then.

Marinette’s head slammed against her hand at the thought. That would be _just_ her luck, wouldn’t it?

Great. Now she was going to be paranoid all day.

But still. Adrien didn’t hate her. That’s all that mattered. Adrien didn’t hate her and they were _texting_ and as embarrassing and awkward and weird as yesterday was, she could live with it. Because he didn’t hate her. Because there was still a chance for them. Because- …because she should _not_ be thinking about this right now. But he didn’t hate her. They were still friends. They could totally put whatever that was yesterday behind them and move on with their lives and maybe revisit it again one day, when they were both ready.

But for now, they were friends. And for now, that was enough. Because now she was the closest with Adrien Agreste that she had ever been.

She walked into class with a somewhat dazed, dreamy look on her face, barely even aware of her surroundings or the countless people who passed by, giving her somewhat odd looks. None of them mattered. Not right now.

“Hey Mari,” Alya called, gripping her upper arm and pulling her down onto her seat. “You okay?”

Marinette didn’t say anything at first, far too engrossed in reading over the texts on her phone for what could’ve been the millionth time that morning.

“Oh… perfect,” she murmured absently, before snapping back into reality. “What? Oh, I- I mean I’m fine. I’m fine! I’m _just_ fine. How about you?”

But Alya didn’t respond, too taken with staring down at Marinette’s phone. There was a long, drawn out, utterly _agonising_ moment of silence, until;

“Since when did Adrien call you _princess?”_

Princess? How did Alya-

…oh.

Marinette shivered, quickly snatching her phone back and clutching it protectively against her chest. “It’s… not what it looks like? We’re not-”

“His dad doesn’t approve, does he?” Alya quickly cut across her.

Marinette swallowed awkwardly. “Uh… what?”

She jumped in surprise when Alya abruptly snapped her fingers with a sudden realisation.

“Is _that_ why you’re both so weird about it?”

“Uh… weird about what?”

“Oh my god,” Alya breathed. “You _are_ dating, aren’t you? You’re dating and his dad wouldn’t approve so you’re both trying to keep it secret.”

“I have literally no idea what you’re talking about.”

Alya ignored her. “I can’t believe I didn’t see it. That explains _everything.”_

“It- it does?” Marinette squeaked, unable to help herself.

“You should’ve just _told_ me you wanted to keep it private,” Alya scolded. “Honestly Mari, I would’ve understood. We all know Adrien’s dad is a total control freak. It’s not even a surprise.”

“Uh…”

“Do you need me to help cover for you? Because everyone is talking about what happened between you yesterday. What _was_ that, by the way? Did Adrien forget you weren’t somewhere private or something?”

Oh. Oh, this was _perfect._

“Yes,” Marinette all but screamed, suddenly deciding right then and there that she was never going to get out of this hole and may as well live with her new reality. Besides, it did conveniently explain things she couldn’t risk being in any way truthful about. “Yes. Absolutely. That’s exactly what happened.”

Adrien may not appreciate her jumping this gun, but he would understand. He’d go along with it. It wouldn’t take much, if any convincing. If they had to let Alya think they were trapped in some horrendous forbidden love situation, then they would. The truth was too precious to risk.

“And the misunderstanding you had?” Alya pressed. “That was about his dad too, wasn’t it?”

“Uh huh,” Marinette agreed, nodding fervently, trying to think on her feet. “I wanted to tell people, he disagreed. I wasn’t aware just how serious the consequences could be. It really shouldn’t have been as much of a fight as it was.”

That was… kind of true? Maybe? A little?

Oh, who was she kidding? It wasn’t true at all. And now she had a secret relationship that wasn’t even a real relationship to worry about. Still. It was better than the alternative. Even if it did make her want to bang her head repeatedly against a brick wall.

It was just more lies. More evading. More half-truths. More manipulation. More damage control.

She hated it. She hated it _so much,_ but there was nothing else to be done.

“Not that there’s much to cover for, anyway,” Alya muttered.

Marinette jerked back in surprise. “What do you mean? Alya?”

She just shook her head, before gesturing at Mlle Bustier, who was glancing around the classroom with the clear intent to start in just a few minutes. Marinette sank a little lower in her chair, not wanting to get caught out again.

“No Adrien today?” Mlle Bustier called, taking note of the empty seat in front of Marinette, before glancing over to Nino for an explanation.

Nino shrugged nonchalantly, apparently having nothing to say.

“He’s working,” Marinette piped up automatically.

At her words, Nino hastily nodded. “Uh, yeah. He’s working, Mlle Bustier.”

There was a pause as Mlle Bustier took this information in before letting out a loud sigh. “Again? I need to have a word with that boy’s father.”

Not that it would change anything, Marinette thought sourly, focusing on the small doodles she made across the top of her page.

“Marinette Dupain- _Cheng,”_ the all too familiar voice of Chloé Bourgeois suddenly called from somewhere above her, as a hand of perfectly manicured nails slammed down onto her desk.

It took all of Marinette’s self-control not to groan. This was quite possibly the absolute _last_ thing she needed right now. She didn’t have the time _or_ the energy to deal with this. She had bigger problems. _Way_ bigger problems. High school was just, so trivial in comparison.

“Yes, Chloé?” she called exhaustedly, glancing up at the girl in question.

“I don’t know what you said to Adrien to make him like you,” Chloé hissed, leaning over the desk to give Marinette an icy glare. “And frankly? I don’t think I care. But you should know that I. Am. Not. _Fooled.”_

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh _please,”_ she interrupted with a sharp bark of cynical laughter. “No one’s buying your cute little innocent girl act. You noticed he was upset – thanks to your _creepy stalker obsession,_ no doubt – and you’re using that to manipulate him.”

Marinette gritted her teeth furiously. “You have _no idea_ what you’re talking about!”

“Don’t I?” she contradicted, with her classic smirk that made Marinette want to break something. “I’ve seen your room. I know all about your little _shrine.”_

_How did she-?_

Marinette quickly shoved the thought aside. It wasn’t important right now. And in any case, it didn’t concern her.

“That’s none of your business!”

“What, you don’t think _Adrien_ has a right to know about your crazy fixation on him?” Chloé asked snidely. “Shouldn’t he know the _real_ you?”

 _“Shut up,”_ Marinette snarled.

“Oops, did I hit a _nerve?”_ Chloé drawled, pulling back and placing her hands on her hips triumphantly. “You’re so _pathetic._ What’s the bet _you’re_ the one who upset him in the first place, just so you could pretend to care?”

Marinette gritted her teeth, her hands quickly balling into tight fists. It was stupid. It was _pathetic,_ how Chloé was trying to get to her, just because she was so possessive of Adrien – because she felt like she _owned_ him. She was just leaping to insane conclusions in some sad attempt to take a dig at her. How _dare_ she even _insinuate-_

_Hawk Moth is a monster. And if Adrien’s helping him, then he’s just as bad._

She winced as her own words reverberated around her mind, now with new and painful context.

_He’s a monster, Chat, and you know it!_

She hated that. Hated herself. Hated what she’d said. Hated the fact that she only regretted saying it upon learning who he was. The situation wasn’t a good one, no one had any illusions about that. But knowingly or not, she had done more to hurt Adrien in the past week than Gabriel ever did.

_Don’t pretend there’s any inner goodness left in him. Because there isn’t. Maybe there never was._

Maybe, in her own sick, twisted way, Chloé was right. Because she _had_ been the original one to upset him. It _was_ her fault.

“Maybe if you were _honest_ with him, you wouldn’t have to manipulate him into tolerating you,” Chloé continued dryly, bringing Marinette sharply back into reality.

Marinette fumed.

_Honest?_

What the _hell_ did Chloé know about being honest? What did she know about _anything?_

“You have _no idea_ what he’s going through!” Marinette screamed, leaping to her feet and slamming her fists down on her desk with an echoing _bang_ as tears welled up in her eyes. “Maybe if _you_ weren’t such an arrogant _cow,_ you’d have nothing to be jealous over!”

 _“Marinette!”_ Mlle Bustier shouted furiously, before Chloé could get another word in. “Go to the principal’s office!”

Marinette didn’t acknowledge the teacher’s anger at her behaviour, she was already out the door, hugging herself and frantically fighting back the tears that she knew once they started, would never stop.

What did Chloé know? What did she know about _anything?_ She wasn’t there, she didn’t know the week they’d had, she didn’t know what they went through just to get to this point. She didn’t know how much they suffered – how much _both_ of them suffered – just to protect people like her. Chloé didn’t know her, and she _certainly_ didn’t know _Adrien._

Honestly, the way she acted, like she _owned_ him, like she alone had any right to even _talk_ to him-

Marinette tried to breathe, to calm herself down, to do _something_ before what was already a bad morning turned into a full on catastrophe.

So, she pulled out her phone.

 _Tell me a joke,_ she typed, still fighting tears.

She didn’t know what else to do. She didn’t know who else could help her. She just knew that she had to head this off as quickly as possible, before she made herself a target. She didn’t know if she _could_ be akumatised, what with her possession of a miraculous. But that wasn’t a risk she was willing to take.

A shiver went up her spine at the thought of Adrien being forced to fight her on his own, with no means with which to purify the akuma.

No. This was better than that. Even if it was entirely needless, this was a _way_ better option than that.

Her phone beeped about a minute later, causing Marinette to jump in surprise at the haste with which he’d replied. She must’ve caught him on a break, or something.

_What’s a cat’s way of keeping law and order?_

Her eyes narrowed. That… certainly _sounded_ like the setup of a joke.

_Uh, what?_

Two minutes went by this time. Marinette couldn’t rid herself of the feeling that he was trying to milk it for all it was worth, leave her drowning in anticipation. That certainly seemed fitting for him – at least it was for Chat Noir, if not Adrien.

And then;

_Claw enforcement._

There was a brief pause as Marinette stared at her phone, until her brain seemed to finally register the joke and she launched straight into a somewhat hysterical, delirious fit of giggles.

“Oh…” she sighed to herself. “Oh chaton, that’s _terrible.”_

Terrible, but enough, she thought as she sniffed, feeling herself brighten. It wouldn’t change anything that happened, wouldn’t rid her mind of Chloé’s cruel smirk, but it was enough.

 _That was awful and you’re ridiculous,_ she quickly typed back. _But thank you._

_Always happy to serve, princess._

She was relatively happy to leave it there, not say anything more, and continue the conversation tomorrow, but barely thirty seconds passed when her phone beeped again.

_Am I allowed to know why you called upon my mad humour skills?_

She didn’t want to answer. Not at first. She didn’t want to confess to Adrien the details of what she and Chloé had screamed at each other. She didn’t want Adrien to get involved. Not any more than he was already. He had enough to deal with.

But he’d worry otherwise. She knew that.

 _Chloé Bourgeois,_ she responded vaguely. _And your father. Didn’t want to risk it._

It wouldn’t take anything more than that. He’d know what she meant.

His next message was full of worry. _Do you need me there?_

Her eyes narrowed somewhat at his offer.

_Aren’t you working?_

Once again, his reply came in a very timely manner. Either she’d caught him on a break or he was _really_ slacking off. In that moment, Marinette wasn’t sure which one she preferred.

_I might be, yes. But give the word, and I’ll blow this popsicle stand._

He was so… Chat-like when they were texting. More so than when they saw each other in real life. Marinette didn’t know why that was, exactly. Maybe he was just more comfortable when he had something to hide behind, whether that was distance, or a screen, or a mask. Maybe that’s just what Chat Noir was.

Marinette quickly elected not to think about it and instead typed out her reply.

_I think I can manage. Thanks anyway. I’ll see you tomorrow._

She sighed.

Tomorrow.

Patrol.

Because all their patrols lately went _so_ well.

But who knows? Maybe this one would break with recent tradition and actually go smoothly.

 _Friends,_ she reinforced to herself. _We can be friends._

Maybe, right now, that’s all they needed to be.


	5. Saturday

One week.

It had been exactly one week since the worst argument they’d ever had, one week since she’d found out the one thing about Chat Noir she had never wanted to know. Marinette wasn’t quite sure how she felt about the anniversary. It wasn’t something she’d planned to give any thought to at all; but the more hours dragged by, the more she caught herself lost in memories. Of things that were still recent, still too fresh in her mind, and yet, still felt like a lifetime ago.

She gritted her teeth and leaned a little further over her sketch pad, carefully and methodically drawing out the vague idea in her head in the vain hope it would somehow morph into a viable design without any real work on her part. She honestly didn’t know what she was drawing anymore – a shirt that turned into a pinafore dress that developed into a cardigan that became a jacket that mutated into an overcoat – but it kept her focused on something other than the bitter knowledge the she and her crush were the only people holding back the impending doom of the entire world.

At the hands of a man she had once respected and idolised, who also happened to be her partner’s _father._

Because that was still a thing.

Marinette leaned back in her desk chair and let out an agitated sigh, angrily throwing her pencil against the wall, not reacting when it bounced off and skittered along her desk before clattering to the floor.

When she’d seen the weather forecast predict a heavy thunderstorm, she’d been more than happy to use it as an excuse to bail on patrol. And the rain hadn’t disappointed her – it hammered relentlessly against her window and the roof, the noise so loud it drowned out nearly all else. But as much as she didn’t want to see Adrien, as much as she didn’t want to have the conversation she knew was inevitable, this wasn’t any better. Instead of braving the miserable weather and biting the bullet; she hid away in her room, feeling like a coward.

She just couldn’t face him. Not right now. Texting was one thing, but actually having to look him in the face? That was something else entirely. Mask or no mask.

Anxiously, she glanced down at the rough sketch before her, smudged in places from her furious erasing, echoes of lines she’d tried her best to get rid of still faint on the paper, remnants of ideas she’d tossed aside. She knew it wasn’t working, that it would probably never work now no matter what she tried to draw.

Thunder cracked overhead, and Marinette all but collapsed on her desk, burying her head in her hands and letting out a quiet groan.

“This is stupid,” she murmured to no one in particular, fully aware that Tikki was sleeping soundly in a little corner of her desk, far past the point of paying attention. Marinette didn’t mind. She loved having Tikki around, but sometimes she just wanted to be alone. Really alone, with nothing and no one else but her own thoughts.

She didn’t know how long she stayed there. She didn’t know what time it was; only that it was dark outside, though whether that was because of the time of day or simply the clouds she couldn’t tell. Slowly, she closed her eyes and let out an exhausted sigh, not sure what else to do. Part of her just wanted to curl up in bed and stop existing for a few hours.

_Thump._

Automatically, Marinette’s eyes snapped open at the sound, glancing anxiously up at her ceiling and squinting suspiciously. That didn’t sound like rain. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think it sounded like-

Dread clawed at her gut at the thought.

No.

No, that wasn’t it.

She was obviously imagining things.

She _had_ to be imagining things.

For a few tense seconds, she didn’t move, waiting silently for some other noise – but if there had been any, they were drowned out by the roar of the rain. She wanted to leave it there, to dismiss herself, but no matter what she did, she couldn’t get rid of the almost overwhelming sense of gnawing dread.

 _“Please_ tell me you’re not actually out there,” she grumbled, mostly to herself, staring directly up at the ceiling as if she expected to see through it.

Another tense second of silence passed, before Marinette decided she couldn’t stand it any longer. Cautiously, she rose, making her way over to the steps to undo the latch, suddenly unsure if she’d really heard anything or if she was just going crazy. Gently, she pushed on the trapdoor, peeking outside as lightning flashed across the darkened sky and thunder cracked overhead.

And standing in the midst of a growing puddle, motionless in the bucketing rain, were two very familiar boots.

For a moment, she didn’t move, patiently waiting for him to respond, to do something, to say _something,_ but it never happened.

“You’re going to catch a cold like that,” she called out to him after too long a pause.

He jumped slightly at the sudden sound of her voice, but aside from that, he didn’t move. He remained rooted to the spot, staring mindlessly ahead, not paying any attention to fact that he was soaking wet, that his hair was plastered to his forehead from the torrential downpour, that the longer he stayed there the more water made its way inside Marinette’s bedroom. Still, she waited, unable to curb her worry.

“Chat,” she called out, just loud enough for him to hear her.

She’d not seen him like this before, but it didn’t take a genius to recognise that he was distraught. The fact that he was here at all told her that much. Never mind the fact that he’d come here despite the weather.

She hated it. Hated seeing him like this. Hated knowing why he _was_ like this.

 _“Chat Noir,”_ she tried again when he didn’t respond. “I thought we agreed that we weren’t going to do this.”

They couldn’t afford to draw attention to each other – the instant people noticed Adrien and Ladybug had any kind of relationship, or Marinette and Chat Noir, it would lead to speculation neither of them had the time or energy to deal with. She thought that had been made clear, back when they’d initially laid out their post-reveal ground rules.

Everything has to stay the same.

No one can know anything has changed between them.

They’re partners. They have a job to do. They can’t get in each other’s way.

It all seemed so easy back then.

Finally, mercifully, he glanced down at her, apparently just now managing to snap into reality.

“Sorry,” he murmured hoarsely. “I’ll just- …I’ll go.”

He turned on his heels as he said that, quickly making to leave until Marinette reached out, her hands closing around the long belt that made up the tail of his outfit and pulling him to a sharp halt.

 _“Hey,”_ she called, trying to be as soft and gentle as possible. “Talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” came the immediate reply; the tone too flippant to be entirely genuine.

“You wouldn’t be here if nothing was wrong,” she reasoned lightly.

He twisted around, just enough to see her in his peripheral vision. “It’s nothing. Really, I’m fine. I was thinking about patrol – I know we decided to cancel but that doesn’t mean we’re safe and I wanted to make sure-”

“Please don’t lie to me.”

He didn’t reply, not at first.

Marinette waited, not sure what else to say. Not sure what else she _could_ say, at this point.

“I’m not lying,” he protested feebly, his voice cracking slightly as the words left him.

Marinette swallowed nervously, not quite sure how to deal with this situation. Here he was, standing on her little rooftop terrace in the pouring rain, clearly on the verge of some kind of emotional breakdown. He’d come to her in his moment of need and he was so vulnerable right now and she had absolutely _no freaking idea_ what to do, or what to say.

There didn’t seem to be anything to say. Not in that moment. And for a second, Marinette seriously considered letting him go.

Just for a second.

“Come inside,” she called, tugging on his tail a little.

“I don’t think-”

“It’s not a _request,_ Chat,” she cut across him, maybe a little harsher than intended. “Come inside. You’ll catch your death out here.”

For a moment, he didn’t move, and Marinette feared he would ignore her and bound off into the surrounding darkness before she could do anything to stop him. But then he turned, facing her properly before moving towards her. The instant he was within her reach, Marinette threw her arms around him, not caring when she over-balanced and sent them both tumbling back onto her bed and down the steps with a crash, the trapdoor slamming shut behind them.

She didn’t care. She didn’t care when landed flat on her back, Adrien’s completely drenched form collapsed uselessly on top of her. She didn’t care about the pain that spiked throughout her body at the rough impact, or the noise that was probably going to alert her parents and send them running. In that moment, nothing mattered but the boy in her arms. Everything else may as well have faded completely from existence.

They lay there in almost complete silence for what felt like and possibly could’ve been a small eternity. Marinette didn’t have anything to say. She knew words wouldn’t help. She wasn’t sure _anything_ was going to help, in that moment.

That moment that seemed to drag on forever.

That one moment, that may as well have lasted a thousand years.

“Marinette, are you alright?” the all too familiar voice of her mother called very abruptly, taking Marinette completely by surprise. “I heard a crash.”

She could feel Adrien tense, and Marinette glanced anxiously in the direction of her mother’s voice.

“I- I’m fine Maman!” she managed to choke out as Adrien finally seemed to regain some autonomy and pushed himself away from her, staggering weakly to his feet. “I just- uh, I tripped! I’m okay!”

 _Please don’t come in,_ she found herself silently begging. _Please don’t make me explain why there’s a superhero in my room._

She wouldn’t even know where to begin explaining that one. At least, not in any way that didn’t completely compromise both her identity _and_ Adrien’s.

Thankfully though, her lies seemed to be enough.

“Well alright,” came the reply. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“O-okay! I will!” she responded hastily, anxiously sucking in a sharp breath and holding it for a few seconds as she waited for the coast to be clear.

Above her, Adrien stood in complete silence, gingerly offering her his hand.

“Ah, sorry,” he murmured, his voice low and barely audible.

Marinette shook her head as she took his hand and let him pull her up. “No, it was my fault.”

He quickly cast his eyes to the floor. “I’m- …I’m sorry for bothering you.”

His voice was so small and so timid, it sounded so strange coming from a fully costumed Chat. Marinette chewed her lip anxiously, suddenly positive it wouldn’t have been any more normal coming from Adrien Agreste.

“You’re not bothering me, minou,” she assured him quietly, looking him over properly for the first time since he appeared on her terrace. “You’re soaking wet.”

He really did look like a bedraggled stray – half drowned in the rain, clearly uncomfortable with being wet and acutely aware that he was dripping water all over her carpet, but unable to do much about it. He ran a clawed hand through his hair, pushing it back out of his face, wincing a little as water dripped onto his skin.

“Here,” she called, absently tossing him a towel that had been draped over her desk chair, only to feel a small wave of panic come on when it hit him in the face. “S-sorry! Sorry.”

He didn’t say anything in response, simply reached up and pulled the towel over his head, absently trying to dry his hair while giving her a soft half-hearted smile that made Marinette feel like simply breaking into pieces.

“Adrien,” she called his name softly, still a little lost on what to say.

He jerked back in surprise, evidently still not used to anyone addressing him by name when he was wearing the mask. Marinette couldn’t exactly blame him – she still wasn’t quite used to the idea herself. For a moment, he stood there, watching her expectantly, while still absently trying to towel off his hair without touching the black cat ears nestled there.

“You can drop the transformation,” she told him gently, taking note of this. “No one is going to see. You’re safe here.”

He shivered – though whether that was because of her suggestion or the cold, Marinette had no idea.

“I’m fine,” he answered in a shaky, unconvincing whisper.

“You don’t want to exhaust your kwami,” she reasoned.

“He’ll get over it.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but almost immediately thought better of it. He didn’t come here to argue, didn’t come looking to be reprimanded for his choices and behaviour. Marinette was at a loss as to why he’d come at all. At first she was worried something terrible had happened, but if it had, Adrien would’ve told her straight out the gate. Instead, he wasn’t really saying anything much, staring unblinkingly at the floor, his mind a thousand miles away.

“Why?” she whispered after too long.

Adrien’s head snapped up at the sound of her voice. “What?”

“Why won’t you change back?”

His brow creased slightly at her question, and he seemed to grow tense – in that all too familiar way he did when he was expecting some kind of attack.

And then, just like that, he seemed deflate.

“I just… I don’t- I don’t want to be Adrien right now,” he admitted slowly.

For too long, Marinette just stared, completely at a loss. She didn’t know what to say to that. There wasn’t really anything she _could_ say. She wanted to say she understood, but suddenly, she wasn’t sure that was quite true. She knew the mask was something of an escape for him; a way to weasel himself out from under his father’s control, a way to be free of the expectations put upon him by the world at large. She knew that. But it had never seemed to come from a place of genuine self-loathing.

Now, it was different. Something had changed.

Marinette didn’t know why she was surprised. She knew what was bothering him. She’d always known. She just didn’t know how to broach the topic with him.

“Is this about your father?” she asked a little shakily, not sure what else to say.

He shivered once again and turned away from her. “Isn’t it always?”

Marinette nodded slowly, having already braced herself for his answer. Then, she slowly began to retreat back to her bed, careful not to do anything that would startle him, and tugged her blankets from her bed, throwing them around his shoulders like a makeshift cape. Adrien simply stood there in silent surprise, not sure what to make of her as she carefully wrapped him up.

“What’s this for?” he asked after a pause, his voice quiet and unsure.

Marinette gave an innocent shrug. “You’ve been out in the rain for who knows how long. You’re probably cold.”

He grimaced at that, and immediately tried to peel the blankets off. “I’m wet, I’ll get water all over your-”

“Hey,” she called, quickly gripping his wrists to stop him. “Don’t. It doesn’t matter.”

“But-”

“I don’t care. I have other blankets,” she insisted. “Just… let me look after you. Just this once. Please?”

He just stared at her in silence, apparently completely at a loss. Marinette watched him right back, unblinkingly, desperate to appear even half as confident as she felt she should be. Neither of them really seemed to know what to do in this situation, what to say, or how to even treat each other. Part of Marinette wanted to reached out and hold him close, but she couldn’t rid herself of the gnawing dread that worried if she so much as touched him, he might simply break into pieces.

Maybe there just wasn’t anything to say anymore.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered hoarsely, after what felt like forever.

Marinette blinked several times in surprise. “What for?”

Adrien didn’t meet her eye. “I uh… I asked Nino about what happened yesterday. He told me about the fight you had with Chloé.”

She bit her lip and quickly made a point of glancing off in the opposite direction. “You shouldn’t have. It wasn’t important.”

“You were worried about being akumatised over it,” he reminded her, a little bitterly. “That’s pretty important.”

Still, she didn’t look at him. “I shouldn’t have bothered you about it. I know you were working.”

“I was sitting in a make up chair when you messaged me. Not sure I’d call that _working.”_

“Is _that_ why you were getting back to me so quickly?”

He gave a stiff nod before slowly sinking to the floor, not really reacting as the blankets she’d wrapped him up in crumpled awkwardly around him. There was a pause as he glanced up at her, vibrant green catlike eyes narrowing in on her with an unparalleled focus. Marinette shifted, somewhat awkward, at least until he stretched his arm out in what she could only take as a gesture to join him there, on her bedroom floor.

Slowly, and a little uneasily, she did just that, absently snuggling herself against his body, feeling him shiver a little with cold as he wrapped the blankets around them both. For so long, neither of them moved, content to just sit there in companionable silence. Marinette pressed herself against his chest, ignoring the cold clamminess and the near constant shivers, determined to warm him in any way she could, even if that meant using her own body heat.

And then;

“She’s not, uh, _terrible,_ you know,” he whispered. “Chloé, I mean. She’s just… complicated.”

“I don’t know what you see in her,” Marinette snapped back a little coldly, before immediately biting her lip in fierce regret.

Not for saying anything bad about Chloé. Just for saying something that could potentially hurt Adrien’s feelings. But still. Was he _seriously_ trying to defend _Chloé Bourgeois?_ To _her?_

“We’ve been friends for almost as long as I can remember, and she- …she was there for me when no one else was,” he confessed quietly. “When my mother- …well, my father wasn’t exactly- … Chloé understood what I was going through, I guess. She’d been there before, in a way. I- I don’t know if that makes any sense.”

“That meant a lot to you,” Marinette observed.

He nodded. “I’m not saying she’s perfect, but she’s not _irredeemable.”_

“Are you excusing her?”

“No. I hate the way she treats you. _Everyone._ I just… I don’t know. She’s a good person. Or she _could be,_ if she tried. Or… or maybe I’m holding out hope that not everyone I know is an unspeakable monster.”

“Nino’s good.”

That was met with a breathless chuckle. “Nino _is_ pretty good.”

“Alya’s not a supervillain, either,” Marinette pointed out. “You know her.”

“Barring the Lady Wifi incident.”

“Akumas don’t count,” Marinette said bluntly. “And besides… you seem pretty close with Ladybug. I hear she’s pretty cool.”

He let out a wistful sigh. “She’s _way_ out of my league.”

“I doubt she’d agree.”

“No, she is. Way too talented and amazing to pay me any attention.”

“Alas, if _only_ you were some overachieving famous teen model type with the sweetest personality known to man.”

Adrien just coughed awkwardly and glanced away, apparently not sure how to take that. “We really should stop talking about this before I spontaneously combust.”

Part of her wanted to keep teasing, but she didn’t want to push him. As light-hearted as their conversation had turned, Marinette knew he was still in an incredibly fragile state. And they hadn’t even really addressed why he _was_ that way yet.

She couldn’t dance around it forever. No matter how much she wanted to.

“Real talk, then,” she said, pulling away from him as much as she could without leaving the folds of the blankets enveloping them both. “I know you didn’t come here because of patrol. Or to talk about Chloé.”

He laughed at that – but it was bitter, entirely humourless. “Nothing gets past you, does it?”

“Guess I know you too well, Chat Noir.”

To think, just a few days ago, she’d been agonising over the fact that she didn’t seem to know him at all.

“I- I, uh… I got into a fight,” he admitted, the corners of his lips twitching with a weak smile she was sure was meant to put her at ease more than anything else. "With my father."

Marinette automatically tensed, her hands clenching into tight fists before she could do anything to stop it.

“Not about cats or butterflies or anything,” he amended without looking back at her, obviously sensing her panic over his words. “Though that, ah… probably came into it, a little.”

“What do you mean?”

Adrien shrugged noncommittally and kept his eyes solidly on the floor directly in front of him. “I- forget it. It doesn’t matter. Stupid of me to bring it up.”

“It _does_ matter,” Marinette argued sharply, reaching out to grip his wrists in some half-hearted effort to keep him from getting up and leaving. “It does matter. It matters, and you’re not stupid for wanting to talk about it.”

He didn’t meet her gaze. Suddenly, Marinette found herself unable to shake the feeling that he was deliberately avoiding it.

“I- I don’t know why, I kind of… heh… I- uh, I snapped,” Adrien confessed awkwardly, pulling his hand from her grip and running it through his hair; letting out a breathless chuckle that seemed born of stress more than anything else. “I snapped, a bit. May have threatened to quit modelling. It was stupid. I was just angry. I shouldn’t have been angry.”

“People fight with their parents,” she tried, knowing her words would sound hollow, at best. “That’s normal.”

He let out a shaky exhale that briefly morphed into quiet, strained laughter. “I don’t. Not like that. Not with him.”

_I can’t do this. I can’t fight him._

Marinette winced at the memory.

_I don’t- …I can’t… I’m just- I’m so tired of losing people._

Last week was always going to find a way to come back and haunt her, wasn’t it? She made a terrible mistake and nothing and nobody was ever going to let her forget it.

“You almost sound like you’re scared of him,” she noted.

For the longest time, Adrien didn’t answer.

“Aren’t you?” he responded, his voice little more than the tiniest hoarse whisper.

Marinette stared.

For so long, that’s all she did.

That wasn’t a question she’d expected to hear. That wasn’t a question she’d _wanted_ to hear, let alone _answer._

Her first instinct was to give him a hard, flat _no._

After all, Hawk Moth _wanted_ the fear. He _wanted_ people to be afraid of him, he wanted to be able to use it, twist it to his advantage. That was his whole game, and she was _Ladybug_ – she couldn’t give him the satisfaction.

But the more she thought about, the less sure she was that was actually _true._ It might’ve been, a week ago. There was no use being frightened of an adversary that was more like a shadow on the wall to them than anything else. Hawk Moth had just been this unseen spectre, the driving force behind all the akumas that routinely attacked them. But ever since Adrien told her who he was, ever seen she’d been a given a face and a name to put to that ominous presence in their lives… suddenly, they were facing a person. Suddenly, the threat was that much more real.

Marinette wasn’t quite sure how she felt about it. She wasn’t quite sure what about Gabriel scared her, if anything. There was just, something there. Something silent and looming over them, like a shroud, and only became all the more pronounced as they went on. Something that only seemed to get worse as she watched Adrien swing almost violently between being normal and depression and something else entirely; something cold and dark and emotionless and uncomfortably similar to his father.

“I-” she began, only to almost immediately cut herself off. “I- I don’t know? I guess… no. I don’t know.”

Adrien let out a soft exhale and glanced away, now actively making a point of never meeting her eye. Marinette fidgeted uncomfortably, realising that she had no real idea of how to respond.

“No, wait,” she sighed, rethinking her answer. “Sorry, that’s so vague. I’m just- I’m not used to answering that question honestly.”

Adrien still didn’t look at her.

“So, honestly?”

“Honestly… I think I’m _terrified_ of him,” she admitted after a pause. “I’m terrified of what he’s already done, and what he’ll end up doing if this goes on for much longer. But most of all, Adrien… I’m _terrified_ that one day, you’ll end up becoming him.”

She immediately regretted her words upon saying them, but there wasn’t anything to be done. Adrien didn’t answer that, regardless. Marinette wasn’t sure if she expected him to.

“Sorry,” she whispered, desperately trying to find a way to backtrack. “I’m so sorry, I should give you more credit than that. You’re not him. You’re nothing _like_ him.”

Adrien simply shook his head in response. “It scares me too.”

“You’re not him,” she repeated. “Adrien, you’re _not_ your father. I’m sorry, I never should’ve said that. You’re so much stronger than he is.”

 _I want to believe that,_ she added silently. _I have to believe that._

“I’m so… I’m _angry,”_ he managed, grabbing fistfuls of his hair and breathing hard. “I’m confused and I’m scared and I’m just. So. _Angry._ But he’s my _father_ and he _cares._ I _know_ he does, and _I_ care about _him_ and… I shouldn’t _be_ angry.”

He glanced up at her as the words left him, looking pleadingly into her eyes, begging for something – an answer, advice, _anything_ that would make it better.

Marinette’s mouth ran dry.

She didn’t have any words left to say. Didn’t have an answer, or advice, or anything.

 _He’s hurt and confused,_ Tikki had told her, just the previous day. That was obvious now. How had she not picked up on that before? Had he been hiding his feelings from her this whole time? Did she only see it now because he was exhausted and couldn’t pretend anymore? Did she only know now because it was now he _let_ her know?

“I- I just… I _wish_ I could hate him,” he continued softly when she said nothing. “I wish he hated _me._ That’s kind of messed up, huh?”

It was.

It was _so_ messed up, and they both knew it.

The corner of Marinette’s mouth twitched with the smallest hint of a smile. “No more messed up than anything else in this situation.”

 _I hate this,_ she wanted to say. _I hate that it’s hurting you._ _I hate that it’s going to keep hurting you no matter what we do._

It was never going to get better.

It would only get worse.

She knew that.

Maybe she’d always known that.

“I guess that’s it, then,” she breathed after a short pause, slowly pushing herself to her feet.

Adrien’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

She sighed. “I mean, we have to attack. Soon. There’s… not really a whole lot else we can do.”

“Just like that? We’re going on the offensive?”

“He won’t expect it,” she reasoned quietly. “We’ll catch him unawares. He won’t have a plan, or anything to hide behind.”

“Have you _met_ my father?” Adrien asked incredulously. “He has a plan for every possibility under the sun.”

Marinette huffed a little. “It doesn’t matter. Either we possibly have an advantage now, or we definitely won’t have one later.”

He let out an exhausted groan and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay… and just- just _say_ that we win. Say everything goes spectacularly well, we expose him as Hawk Moth, take back his miraculous, and everything goes exactly according to plan. What then? Send him to prison?”

“Do we have another option? He’s not going stop otherwise.”

“He might not stop in prison, either.”

“I don’t think we have an alternative.”

Adrien didn’t seem to have anything to say to that. He just kept his head down, staring idly at his hands, clenching them into fists and unclenching them again.

“I’m ready,” Marinette told him softly. “I’m _ready,_ Adrien. Real question here is, are _you?”_

There was a brief, tense silence as Adrien continued to stare idly at his hands.

“I guess I have to be, don’t I?”

Her lips pursed at his reluctant answer. “Are you _ready,_ Adrien?”

Finally, he brought his eyes up to meet hers, suddenly filled with renewed determination.

“I’m ready.”


	6. Sunday Morning

She woke the next morning to the sound of her alarm quietly going off. Marinette stirred, wincing at the aching pain throughout her back, reaching out blindly for her phone in her dazed, semi-conscious state. When her hand slammed roughly against the hard floor, her eyes snapped open with fear, suddenly taken with the realisation that she wasn’t in her bed.

The room that greeted her was still and dark, almost completely silent. Marinette blinked several times and stared up at the ceiling, breathing a sigh of relief as she recognised it. This was her bedroom. She was sprawled out under blankets on the floor, but she’d never left her house. There was nothing to panic over.

Content with that, Marinette grasped for her phone which had been discarded on the floor next to her and switched the alarm off, before settling back down. She closed her eyes and pulled her bedspread further over herself, rolling onto her side in some effort to ease the pain in her back.

And found herself receiving a face full of hair for her trouble.

Immediately, Marinette shifted away – as far away as possible while remaining cocooned in blankets – biting back a scream as cold dread flooded her and her brain seemed to completely shut down.

A very detransformed, very civilian Adrien Agreste was passed out on her bedroom floor. Next to her. Under the same blankets she was under.

It was then the half-forgotten memories of the previous night abruptly came flooding back.

 _Oh god,_ she thought, her brain still reeling from the dizzying realisation. _It wasn’t a dream._

Adrien Agreste was asleep on her bedroom floor the morning after they’d made the decision to directly attack Hawk Moth and it _wasn’t_ a _dream._

Almost immediately, she found herself facing a wall of doubt over their supposed plan – mostly because it was completely _insane._ Were they seriously going to do this? Was she _seriously_ about to _do_ this? They’d had no time, they’d barely come up with an idea as to what their actual plan of attack could possibly be, were they _seriously_ about to throw themselves headlong into a final confrontation with a man they hadn’t even known was their enemy a bit over a week ago? They hadn’t even gone to Master Fu about it-

She gritted her teeth. Master Fu would likely counsel them to be patient, to bide their time until the right opportunity to strike, along with some useless metaphor about noodles thrown in for good measure. But in her experience, waiting did nothing but harm them. After all, if she hadn’t been so insistent on waiting to reveal their identities, then the entire fiasco of last week never would have happened. And the longer they waited, the more time they gave Gabriel to prepare for them, and the more people got hurt in the long run.

No. They’d waited long enough. She just had to hope that Adrien was prepared for the fallout. And there _would_ be fallout.

“Adrien,” she whispered, gently shaking him as she decided that the inevitable repercussions of this would be a problem for another day. “Adrien, wake up.”

He let out an incomprehensible groan at that and disappeared further beneath the blankets.

_“Adrien.”_

“I’m sleeping, Plagg,” came the exhausted reply. “Go find your stinking cheese yourself.”

Her eyes narrowed. Did he really talk to his kwami like that? “Adrien, it’s me. It’s Marinette.”

He bolted upright at that, the blankets crumpling around his waist as he looked around wildly, looking pale and dishevelled with a pretty serious case of bed hair. Marinette tried not to giggle, abruptly realising that this was the first time in her life she’d seen him look anything less than perfect. That being said, he did pull off exhausted and dishevelled quite well.

 _Wow. It’s almost as if he’s a model or something,_ a snide voice from a dark corner of Marinette’s mind whispered.

“H-hey,” he mumbled, immediately looking down as his cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

“…morning,” she greeted him just as awkwardly, determined not to look at him anymore.

They sat in silence like that for what felt like far too long, as Marinette struggled to think of something to say despite the fact that every fibre in her being was _screaming_ at her to say something, _anything._ Instead, she stumbled clumsily to her feet, staggering over to her desk where Tikki usually slept, anxious not to make the situation worse than it already was.

“…Tikki?” she called out fearfully when she found no sign of her. _“Tikki?”_

Anxiously she reached up to her ears, carefully grasping the earrings that were absolutely still there, not sure what else to do. She turned to Adrien, trying to ignore the cold dread that clawed at her gut.

“You’re still wearing the ring, right?”

He nodded, holding up his hand so she could clearly see the ring still firmly in place. Marinette folded her arms and huffed, though she did relax somewhat. If they still had their miraculouses, then the kwamis couldn’t be far. They were probably just hiding out somewhere together.

“Come on… now is _not_ the time to play games!” Marinette had stop herself from outright screaming, keeping her voice to a furious whisper-shout.

No response.

_Damn it._

“Tikki?” she called as loudly as she dared while frantically tearing apart her room in search of her kwami, hoping to all the gods she knew of that the racket wouldn’t be enough to wake her parents. “Tikki, come on! This isn’t funny! Where are you?”

Behind her, Adrien staggered to his feet, glancing around anxiously despite his efforts to hide it. Together, the two of them quickly and quietly began to raid Marinette’s bedroom, not saying a word to each other even as Marinette felt the heat rush to her cheeks every time she felt him brush against her.

And then, finally;

 _“There_ you are!” Marinette huffed angrily when she finally spotted the two kwamis huddled together on a nearby shelf, murmuring to each other and watching the scene play out with a mild interest. “What are you doing? Have you been there all night? Don’t stress me out like that! I almost…”

Tikki glanced down at her, looking apologetic. “Sorry, Marinette. We were-”

“Having a nice time catching up until you interrupted,” Plagg cut across her sharply.

Marinette just blinked at him, not quite registering. “What? Oh, nevermind! We need to transform.”

 _“Again?”_ Plagg asked incredulously. “Before he even feeds me? I’ll _die of starvation_ at this rate.”

“He says, like he hasn’t been gorging himself all night,” Adrien responded dryly, without looking back at any of them.

Plagg, from what Marinette could tell, seemed to put on a show of being affronted by Adrien’s words. “Hey, I’m the very model of self-restraint when I want to be.”

“Why don’t I believe you?”

“Because I never want to be. And besides, don’t act like you don’t still owe me.”

“How could I possibly forget?”

Marinette found herself watching this whole exchange with an amused smile on her face, even as she folded her arms tightly across her chest and exhaled loudly from her growing impatience. It was bizarrely interesting, seeing how Adrien interacted with his kwami, and just how different their dynamic was. She’d argued with Tikki before, but this was different. Adrien and Plagg seemed to bicker like it was second nature to them. And maybe it was.

“Don’t mind him,” Tikki said, hovering by Marinette’s ear. “He’s always been melodramatic.”

“See how _you_ like it when _she_ gives up on herself like an _idiot_ for _three days!”_ Plagg all but screamed, whirling around and jabbing a tiny paw obstinately in Marinette’s direction, before rounding back on Adrien. “Try dealing this one! Works out who his enemy is and instead of being _smart,_ he gets all hung up on how he’s going to do his stupid _identity reveal_ because _Ladybug has to know_ and he _can’t keep putting her in danger_ and _it’s better this way_ and then use it all to justify why he just _has_ to be the _self-sacrificing martyr!”_

“Plagg…” Tikki called softly, glancing behind him to the other side of the room where Adrien had gone quiet and still.

“And then he wonders why he’s so _depressed,”_ the black kwami continued with a snarl, completely ignoring both Tikki and Adrien’s pained expressions. “How many times have we had that conversation, kid? _How many times?”_

“I already hate myself for what happened, Plagg,” Adrien admitted quietly, never looking up to face any of them, as Marinette’s heart broke. “I don’t need your help.”

 _“Hopeless,”_ Plagg raged, although quieter now. “I don’t have the energy to deal with your _angst,_ kid. Not this early in the morning.”

“You’re being totally unfair!” Marinette shouted louder than she should’ve done, though she was past the point of caring.

“And _you!”_ Plagg screamed in response, turning to face her the instant she’d begun to speak. “What part of _make everything worse_ sounded like a good idea to you? Why are you both so _stupid?!”_

 _“Plagg!”_ Tikki shouted over him furiously. “I know you’re angry, and you have every right to be, but now is _not_ the time!”

“You’ve always been _way_ too soft,” the other kwami bit back at her. “Knock some sense into your Ladybug. Before _I_ have to.”

“Don’t make it about Marinette,” Adrien argued. “It wasn’t her fault.”

“Not her fault that she was just as much an idiot as you?” Plagg retorted sourly. “You just can’t help yourself, can you, kid? You just _have_ to be the knight in shining armour. _Hers,_ specifically.”

“Leave her _out_ of it,” Adrien snarled back at him with more aggression than Marinette ever thought he was capable of.

“Say you’re in love with her as much as you want, it doesn’t make what she did right,” came the blunt reply. “Ugh, why am I even bothering? No one ever listens. Have fun being stupid, you two. You’re _clearly_ made for each other.”

“Are you done?” Adrien asked, his voice low and icy.

“Depends,” Plagg shot back at him without missing a beat. “Are you done being an impulsive idiot? It’s not _my_ fault you’re so-”

 _“Claws out,”_ Adrien barked out, not reacting as Plagg promptly vanished into the ring, leaving the room in silence.

For a moment, Marinette simply stared, not sure how to take any of what she’d just witnessed. Not sure how to react to the fact that Chat Noir was, once again, standing motionless in the middle of her room, staring aimlessly ahead, doing his best to hide his thoroughly irritated expression. It reminded her too much of herself – of the recent arguments she’d had with her own kwami, of how she’d dismissively ended the conversation in almost exactly the same manner.

 _God,_ she thought as she shifted uncomfortably on the spot. _Is that really what I’m like?_

“So,” Adrien piped up as he bounded up onto her bed, reaching up to the trapdoor and opening it, suddenly full of Chat Noir’s trademark vigour and light-hearted perkiness. “We doing this, or what? Time’s a-wasting.”

“Spots on,” Marinette muttered as she began to follow him up and out onto her terrace, not stopping as the magic enveloped her. “We still need to come up with a plan.”

He flashed her a wide grin. _“Way_ ahead of you, my lady.”

Marinette froze in place. Suddenly, she forgot how to breathe. She just stayed there, exactly where she was, only half outside, staring aimlessly at him as her brain seemed to stop working.

Adrien arched an eyebrow at her, a little put off by her reaction. “What?”

“I- …you…” she stammered uselessly. “Uh… um, hm. Yeah. F-forget it. Being silly.”

_My lady._

He’d called her _his lady._

He’d hadn’t just casually referred to her like that since-

It shouldn’t have been a big deal. It _wasn’t_ a big deal. She was totally used to that nickname. There was nothing out of the ordinary about him calling her that.

Except, he was Adrien Agreste. And he hadn’t called her that for what felt like a lifetime. Certainly not that casually. And not since they’d had _that_ conversation.

_You’ll always be my lady._

Marinette shook her head and quickly made her way out onto the terrace, quietly shutting the trap door behind her as Adrien casually leaped up onto the railing, in one fluid and completely silent movement. She had more pressing concerns right now. She could let herself die from happiness _later._

“Are you okay?” she asked after a pause, still not quite feeling ready to go. Not just yet.

Adrien blinked several times. “Hm? What?”

“You got kinda chewed out just now,” she explained a little awkwardly, glancing out at the still dark sky. _Not to mention, you’re being super weird._

He waved her off carelessly. “That’s just what Plagg’s like.”

She gave him a pointed look, which immediately set him on the defensive.

“Hey, it’s fine. I’ll win him back over. Eventually. After spending a small fortune on cheese, probably.”

“He seemed so much nicer on Wednesday.”

Adrien let out a wistful sigh. “He _was_ happy, at first. It was couple of days before the anger really set in. And I- I can’t really blame him, honestly.”

“You came back,” she reminded him quietly.

Adrien nodded stiffly, but ultimately didn’t reply, instead opting to extend his baton and quickly vault himself off the roof and across the street, once again in complete silence. Marinette sighed, knowing she had no choice but to go after him, and try to keep up.

“We seriously need a plan, though!” she shouted at him over the wind that rushed past her as she swung her way through the city a little ways behind him.

“I’ve already got one!” came the reply.

“You’ve already _got_ one?!” she repeated incredulously. In what universe did Chat Noir beat her to the punch on a plan? When did that _ever_ happen?

“Just follow my lead!”

Her? Follow _his_ lead? This was getting weirder with every passing second.

 _“Follow your-_ are you _serious_ right now?! Why can’t you just tell me?!”

“Trust me!”

Trust him.

Marinette could do that. She had to. After all, if she’d done that a little sooner, they could’ve ended the akuma attacks sooner. They could’ve rid themselves of _Hawk Moth_ sooner. If she’d trusted him before, they wouldn’t have had to spend a week and a half arguing and being confused and all of that other nonsense.

It wasn’t a mistake she planned on making again.

 _Never_ again.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” she asked, for what could’ve possibly been the millionth time, landing on a rooftop where he’d finally deigned to stop.

“I want to end it,” he replied, his voice quiet and flat, all while he stared mindlessly at the mansion that loomed ominously before them. A shiver went up Marinette’s spine at that thought, unable to rid herself of the memories of the last time they’d stood here together.

“You know what this will mean,” she reminded him quietly.

“I want to _end it,”_ he repeated, sharper this time. “I don’t care about anything else.”

“But your mother-”

 _“Isn’t_ coming back,” he cut across her, a little scathingly. “I’ve made peace with that. I think it’s about time my dear old _father_ did too.”

She didn’t have anything to say to that. Instead, she crouched down, carefully making a note of all the darkened windows, trying to decide which one would serve as their best possible entry point. Slowly, Adrien joined her, and they both simply sat there, staring at the house before them in almost complete silence.

This was really happening, Marinette’s brain realised dimly. It was really happening. They were really here, about to do this. About to finally end it all. She won’t have to deal with any of this after today.

It was such an odd thought to have.

It should’ve felt different. There should’ve been some… _something._ A sense of finality, maybe. Some vague inkling of the sense that things were finally coming to a close, that in a few hours, it would all be over, one way or another. Instead, she found herself staring idly at the mansion, feeling like they were on their normal patrol. It was all too happening too quickly, maybe. Things had gone by so fast and now she was here before she’d even had time to process it all.

Anxiously, she glanced over to her partner. If it was happening too quickly for her, how must _he_ feel about it? Marinette couldn’t rid herself of the impression that he was burying his emotions out of fear they’d overwhelm him otherwise. And honestly, it wasn’t difficult an assumption to make. How many emotional breakdowns had he been through since the revelation of Gabriel’s identity? Two? Three? And those were just the ones she’d been there to witness.

But bottling it all up and pretending it was fine wasn’t exactly healthy, either.

“So, here’s my idea,” Adrien began, abruptly pulling Marinette out of her thoughts and back into reality. “Let’s not wait.”

She blinked at him in complete and utter surprise. “I thought we agreed to come out this early so we could stake it out?”

“I know we did,” he replied, not looking at her. “But it’s _my_ house. Staking it out isn’t going to tell us anything we don’t already know. So let’s just go in.”

“But the sun’s not even up,” Marinette argued. “He won’t even be _awake.”_

“Exactly.”

She pulled back at that, finally realising what he was saying. “Oh. Surprise attack? While he’s still asleep? Isn’t that a little…”

What was the word she was looking for? Pragmatic? Or _callous?_ She hated applying those words in regard to Adrien Agreste. It wasn’t him. It didn’t fit her image of him; his civilian self _or_ his super-heroic alter ego. The entire debacle – the revelation of Hawk Moth, their subsequent arguments and ultimately their respective identity reveals – had seemed to bring out a colder side of Adrien she wasn’t comfortable seeing. One that reminded her too much of their enemy. And the longer this dragged on, the more it seemed to show.

Adrien didn’t meet her eye. “I know how it sounds. I’m just trying to put the odds in our favour.”

 _Cold, Agreste,_ she wanted to say. _But smart._

Instead, she exhaled softly. “No, you’re right. This isn’t something we can take chances on.”

There was a brief pause after that, as she waited and he just stared at her with an unreadable expression.

“Chat?” she called softly. “You okay?”

He blinked several times, appearing to abruptly snap back into reality. “What? I- …yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. I just- this is happening. We’re really doing this.”

He didn’t sound like he really believed that. Like he couldn’t accept that the words coming out of his own mouth were real.

Understandable, really.

“I guess it had to happen eventually,” he muttered, mostly to himself, before glancing back at her, giving her a small and probably forced smile as he gestured for her to go on ahead. “Shall we?”

She shook her head. “You take point. I’ll follow and guard the rear.”

“You’re sure?”

“It’s _your_ house,” she reasoned. “Not to mention, your plan.”

He watched her for a moment, clearly not at all sure how to take that. Then, he let out a quiet sigh she assumed was supposed to calm him and without so much as another word, he reached up, raking a clawed hand through his hair, nodded at her before vaulting himself over to the mansion.

He wasn’t handling this; Marinette could see that. And now the stress was beginning to show. She couldn’t help but wonder how long he’d managed to go before it really got to him. Hopefully long enough. She couldn’t afford to lose him again, to anything, or anyone.

She tried not think about it too much as she gracefully swung herself through Adrien’s open bedroom window, landing with a small _thump_ on the floor – quickly followed by a _crash_ as she knocked a table and sent something, she wasn’t quite sure what, clattering to the floor.

“Sorry!” she called out in a frantic whisper. “Sorry. I didn’t see-”

She was abruptly cut off when she felt a hand clap over her mouth. She fought the urge to scream in horror and immediately lashed out at her captor, fear flooding through her as she failed to break their hold.

“It’s _me,”_ came a furious whisper, inches away from her right ear. “It’s just me.”

Immediately, she relaxed, suddenly painfully aware that Adrien was the one holding her. There was a brief pause as neither of them moved, until finally, Marinette felt his hand fall from her face, only to grab her own and pull her insistently forwards. Here in the dark, the fact that he blended in so well with the shadows and moved in almost complete silence made it seem like being pulled around by a ghost.

“We’re at the door,” Adrien murmured, gently pulling her hand forward and placing it against the smooth wood. “There. Feel it?”

“Yes,” she breathed, trying to hide just how much her voice was trembling.

She’d forgotten just how much she hated trying to fight in the dark. It was worse inside – here, she didn’t even have the moon or the street lamps to aid her. She was almost totally reliant on Chat Noir to guide her around the place. It hadn’t come up in such a long time, she’d honestly forgotten he could do this.

“You okay?”

She jumped a little at the sudden question. “Y-yeah,” she stammered weakly. “Yeah, I just… forgot how bad I am in the dark. Reminds me of old times.”

“Stormy Weather, right?” Adrien murmured, the nostalgia in his voice clear. “Feels like forever ago. Just hold onto me, and try to stay as quiet as possible.”

Marinette nodded mutely, knowing he would see it. She heard the door creak open then, revealing not much of anything, as far as she could tell. She felt herself get pulled forward and didn’t resist, always careful to make sure she could feel some part of Adrien at all times. Which was _not_ as weird and creepy as it sounded.

They moved slowly, both of them focusing more on keeping quiet rather than speed. Marinette couldn’t have moved much faster even if she wanted to; something Adrien seemed keenly aware of. Until it started getting light, this was just how they were going to have to move. Marinette couldn’t help but long for the sunrise. She felt so vulnerable cowering behind Adrien like this. Of all the things to have a weakness to, the _dark_ was quite possibly one of the stupidest.

Then, she felt Adrien stop dead in his tracks. She didn’t move, she didn’t dare even breathe as she heard the sound of a door being slowly opened and felt Adrien very slowly and carefully move forwards, pulling away from her.

And then;

 _“No,”_ came a furious, barely audible growl, just as she lost her grip on him, leaving her standing alone, motionless and terrified in the darkness.

For one brief, frightening moment, everything was dead still, almost completely silent. For one moment, it was almost as if time had stopped as Marinette struggled to get her head around the situation and found herself looking around wildly, never seeing anything.

“C-Chat?” she called out, groping blindly at the wall and edging her way along it.

What answered her wasn’t his reassuring voice, but a thunderous _crash,_ so loud she jumped in surprise and had stop herself from screaming.

What was going on? Was he there? What were they doing? She couldn’t _see-_

 _“Chat?”_ she yelled, louder this time, blindly running her hands along the wall until finally, her fingers met what felt like a light switch. She fumbled with it until with a small _click,_ the room was abruptly filled with painfully bright light. Marinette’s eyes snapped shut almost immediately.

Then slowly, carefully, she opened them again, squinting through the glare to see a half tossed bedroom and her increasingly frustrated partner standing in the centre of it all, panting heavily.

“He’s… not here,” she murmured, taking note of the deserted bed, even as her brain didn’t quite register. “Wait. He’s not _here?”_

Adrien didn’t seem to hear her. He stalked around the room, running his hands through his hair and growing increasingly frustrated with every passing second.

“No,” he snarled, furiously kicking the heavy four-poster bed. “No, _no!_ Come on! He’s here! He _has_ to be here! We’re _so close!”_

 _“Calm down,”_ she told him a little harsher than intended. “Calm down and _think._ Where else could he be this early?”

Adrien threw his hands up in the air. “I don’t know, his atelier? He gets up at all kinds of weird hours. I never thought anything of it until…”

He trailed off into silence at that, staring absently off into the distance, his mind suddenly a thousand miles away.

“Well,” he managed to choke out after slightly too long a pause. “You know.”

She nodded, jerking her head back in the direction of the door. “So, let’s try the atelier.”

Adrien didn’t reply, simply walked over to her, grabbed her hand once again, and made his way out, flicking off the light as he passed back through the door. Marinette followed on, letting him lead her through the inky blackness that enveloped them both once again, something in her more resolute this time.

“If he’s there, Nathalie will be too,” Adrien murmured, his voice low and flat, devoid of any real emotion.

Marinette tried not to flinch at his impassive tone. “You think she knows about him?”

He inhaled deeply, and seemed to steel himself. “I wouldn’t put it past her.”

“Would she be on his side, do you think?”

“Either she knows and she hasn’t told anyone, which doesn’t imply anything _great;_ or she doesn’t know at all, which means she’s not very good at her job,” he summed up. “She works too hard to be bad at her job. The latter isn’t likely.”

“So…?”

“I’m not inclined to call her an ally. You?”

Marinette nodded. “I’m with you. We can’t risk it.”

Nathalie. How had she forgotten about her? She should’ve considered Gabriel’s personal assistant earlier. She should’ve realised. She shouldn’t have let herself get to taken up with the possibility of Adrien’s involvement with Hawk Moth – _especially_ considering that he’d been standing right beside her the _entire time._ She shouldn’t have gotten so obsessed. If she’d thought about it for at least a second, it would’ve occurred to her and they wouldn’t have to deal with this loose end. They couldn’t _afford_ loose ends.

Marinette wanted to kick herself for the oversight.

“Sun’s coming up,” Adrien noted quietly, breaking her out of her thoughts. “We don’t have a lot of time.”

She blinked several times in surprise and confusion. “What? It’s still pitch black in here.”

“Blackout curtains. My father’s not big on natural light.” He paused for a moment then, considering what he’d just said, before letting out a small, mildly hysterical chuckle. “And somehow I was _surprised_ to find out he’s a supervillain.”

Marinette squeezed his hand then, in an effort to reassure him as he slowly led her down the stairs and towards the atelier. It was slow going, with long pauses between small steps as she struggled to navigate a flight of marble stairs in the dark. Adrien quietly counted each one with her, and didn’t seem to mind her clinging tightly to him the whole while. She could feel his agitation when she didn’t move as fast as he wanted, and his anxiety over their time running out, but he remained patient, calmly waiting for her to get her bearings.

By the time they finally reached the smooth marble of the ground floor, Marinette could finally see the beginnings of daylight peek in through tiny cracks, as well as a small sliver of artificial light that came from behind a nearby door.

Adrien was right. They didn’t have a lot of time.

She stood a little bit behind him as he reached out, pressing his hand against the atelier door before letting out a deep sigh and opening it, letting the light of the room spill out into the darkened entrance hall. For a moment, they both just stood there, peeking into the atelier, scanning the room for any sign of their target, neither daring to even _breathe._

And while Gabriel himself was nowhere to be found – where _was_ he? Where else _could_ he be? – sitting at a desk in a corner, quietly typing away at something, was Nathalie.

For one long excruciating pause that felt like an absolute eternity, nothing happened.

And then;

“Ladybug and Chat Noir!” Nathalie all but screamed the instant she noticed them standing there, leaping to her feet and snatching up a phone from her desk before scrambling away. “What are you-?”

Marinette acted almost without thinking; pulling out her yo-yo and throwing it in Nathalie’s direction, watching on with satisfaction as it looped around her several times before drawing tight, rendering the woman immobile.

“Where’s Gabriel?” Adrien snarled, breaking away from Marinette and making his way almost silently towards their captive, hatred and malice burning in his eyes. “Where’s Hawk Moth?”

Nathalie struggled, gasping desperately for air as she fought against the yo-yo cord that held her in place. “I don’t know what you’re-”

 _“Yes,_ you do,” he cut across her viciously.

“We don’t want to hurt you,” Marinette called, pulling the yo-yo cord a little tighter out of sheer paranoia that Nathalie would somehow wrest herself free before they got the information they wanted. “Just tell us where he is.”

“I- I don’t-”

“You’ve got a grand total of three seconds,” Adrien called harshly, leaning over Nathalie and holding his hand up in a threatening manner. “Better think real hard and _real_ fast.”

Marinette blinked, suddenly registering what was happening. What was likely _to_ happen _very_ soon, if he wasn’t stopped.

He wasn’t doing this.

Was he?

“One,” he began, his voice low and flat. “Two.”

He _was_ doing this.

He was _actually doing this._

“Chat-” Marinette called, unable to stop her heart from hammering in her chest from the growing anxiety over the situation. “Chat, don’t-”

“Three,” Adrien continued, completely ignoring her. _“Cata-”_

“Don’t!” Nathalie shouted, holding her hands up defensively and shaking in terror. “Don’t, _please.”_

“Hawk Moth’s lair,” Adrien bit back at her icily, not moving. _“Please.”_

Nathalie glanced towards the end of the room, over to a large and elaborate oil painting Marinette took a moment to realise was of Mme Agreste, Adrien’s mother. And honestly, after everything she’d learned about Gabriel recently, was she even surprised? She didn’t know for sure that’s what he was after. Marinette knew that, back when she’d brought up the theory with Adrien a few days ago. All she had to support her case were suspicions. But there was definitely _something_ going on. Something that involved _her._

Was Adrien really willing to give that up? Give _her_ up?

Marinette closed her eyes and exhaled softly. It didn’t matter. Maybe it _never_ mattered. Adrien seemed already at peace with it.

“Let her go,” he called out, abruptly breaking Marinette from her thoughts.

She jumped in surprise, though her grip on the yo-yo slacked regardless. “What?”

Adrien didn’t reply as Nathalie fought her way out of the tangle of yo-yo cord and staggered to her feet, dashing frantically across the room and snatching up her phone on the way out.

“What are you doing?” Marinette hissed at him as they both watched Nathalie flee through the door. “She’ll call the _police!”_

“I know,” Adrien responded dryly, not once looking at her.

“We’re breaking and entering, Chat!”

“I _know.”_

They fell into a tense silence as Marinette remained rooted to the spot and Adrien stalked off towards the end of the room.

“I can’t believe you just did that,” she managed between frantic gasps for air.

“What? What are you talking about?”

 _“What am I talking about?”_ Marinette repeated in a furiously whispered shout. “Did you or did you _not_ just threaten to use _cataclysm_ on her?”

“Oh come on. I wasn’t going to actually _use_ it.”

“Well, you could’ve fooled me!” she retorted. “What’s gotten _into_ you today? You’re acting so _weird!”_

She had hoped he’d be able to hold on for a little while longer before completely breaking down over what they were doing. He was putting in a valiant effort, she could see that, but it didn’t take a genius to see just how close he was to completely losing it.

In any case, Adrien didn’t answer her.

“We need to go,” he said, jerking his head over in the direction of the painting.

Marinette quickly followed, not sure what else to do. Not sure what else to say. Part of her wanted to stop him, to sit him down and ask him what was going on in his head, ask him if he needed more time, ask him if he was really prepared to do this, but… she couldn’t. Because this was their one chance, and they were running out of time. If they stopped here, after coming _this_ close, all of this would’ve been for nothing. They would’ve lost the element of surprise, because Gabriel would be _ready_ for them next time. And she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to forgive herself for that.

So instead, she just watched as Adrien reached up, fingers touching specific points on the canvas. And then, in seemingly no time at all, Marinette’s stomach dropped as the floor gave way beneath them.

She didn’t move as darkness enveloped her once again, she hardly even dared to breathe. She had no idea where they were going or what exactly she planned to do once they got there, knowing only that they were hurtling towards a fight with every passing second. Once again, that confused disbelief came over her, struggling to accept that she was here, she was _actually here,_ about to do this. About to end it all, one way or another.

Was Gabriel prepared for them? It certainly seemed like it. Did he knew they were coming for him? Did he know that _they_ knew the truth of who he was? He would very soon, if he didn’t already. The two of them showing up in his house unannounced in the wee hours of the morning was probably enough to clue him in on that. But what else? What else did he know? Did he know about _them?_ Did he know about Adrien? If he did, what would that change? Would it change _anything?_

If he knew… if he knew the truth and didn’t care… it would break Adrien. She knew that. She knew that even now, after everything that had happened, part of him still clung desperately to the idea that his father cared.

And then, all of a sudden, she saw flecks of white light appear in the darkness, dancing aimlessly in the air above her.

She tensed. She’d seen those before, a _thousand_ times before. She knew the purified white akuma when she saw them. And here, the were _hundreds_ of them, fluttering around aimlessly, their faintly luminous wings giving off the only real light in the room.

Automatically, she backed up against Adrien, spinning her yo-yo in front of her like a shield, tense and poised for battle as she desperately scanned her surroundings.

“Ladybug and Chat Noir,” a horrifying familiar voice drawled from the shadows. “I’m _so_ pleased to finally make your acquaintance.”

Marinette didn’t wait. Didn’t stand on ceremony. She whirled around to face the direction the voice had come from and threw her yo-yo with all the power she could muster.

There was something – the sound of a blade being drawn, and flash of light glinting off metal, and a small _clink_ as the cord of her yo-yo wrapped around something and pulled taught. Marinette heaved, throwing her weight into pulling the chord towards her, to force him into the light.

And sure enough, he appeared from the darkness, casually stepping forward as if completely unperturbed by the yo-yo cord that was tangled around the long, thin, rapier-like sword he held in his right hand.

Hawk Moth.

_Gabriel Agreste._

In that moment, she’d never hated anyone more.

“Congratulations,” he snarled, holding his blade firm against all Marinette’s effort to force it from his hand. “You’ve actually managed to _surprise_ me.”

With a vicious snarl that made him sound like some kind of wounded animal, Adrien vaulted over her, launching himself at Gabriel with a barrage of blows. Marinette felt herself slide across the floor as Gabriel expertly dodged out of the way of Adrien’s attack, her mind racing as she tried to think of a plan. She _should_ have a plan. She should’ve thought about this, she should’ve realised he’d be stronger than her, she should’ve _known-_

Suddenly, without warning, she was lurched off her feet, pulled by her grip on her own weapon with surprising speed through the darkness, and she couldn’t see, couldn’t see where she was going, couldn’t see Gabriel, couldn’t see _Adrien-_

_Wham._

The world around her flashed white as her body was slammed unceremoniously into a wall. Pain exploded in her back, arching throughout the rest of her body and leaving her almost paralysed. She let out a startled yelp as she crumpled to the floor, her vision blurred and her ears ringing – so loudly she couldn’t hear anything else.

 _Get up,_ a voice screamed from some distant, forgotten corner of her mind. _Get up. Don’t make him do this alone. Get up, summon lucky charm, just do something-_

But her muscles wouldn’t respond. Nothing did. She was trapped, paralysed with pain, she couldn’t move, she couldn’t _anything,_ and Adrien was there, he was still fighting and she was being _useless,_ she couldn’t do anything and she was about to lose her miraculous to _Hawk Moth-_

Suddenly, a boot entered her vision – not the sleek black dress shoe she’d been expecting, but one of the all too familiar heavy black combat boots she had grown so familiar with since that first fateful day with Stoneheart. Marinette curled in on herself and closed her eyes, not sure what she was seeing or if it was even real.

“Touch her and I’ll _kill_ you.”

And then he was gone from her field of vision, and the sound of metal clashing filled the air.

 _Get up,_ she screamed at herself. _Get up, get up, get up-_

She rolled over onto her side and managed to start pushing herself up off the floor just in time to see Adrien hit the floor hard, his baton slipping from his hand the instant he made impact.

 _“No!”_ she screeched, staggering to her feet and throwing her yo-yo just as Gabriel brought his sword up and prepared to deal a death blow.

Not this time.

No, she was _ready_ this time.

It didn’t matter that he was stronger than her. It _wouldn’t_ matter, not if she was faster.

The instant she felt the yo-yo make contact, she wrenched it back, watching on in satisfaction as Gabriel’s blade was finally ripped from his hand and was sent clattering to the floor. She couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief, even as Gabriel turned to her, lip curled maliciously as he began to advance.

She backed up until she hit the wall, still gripping her yo-yo and preparing for another attack when Gabriel let out a pained shout and abruptly staggered, Adrien having appeared to have kicked his feet out from under him. In a matter of seconds, Gabriel was down, Adrien grabbing his lapel and thrusting him roughly against the wall with a surprising amount of strength, lips pulled back into a vicious snarl as he pulled one hand back.

“Chat, _don’t!”_ Marinette began to scream, desperately fighting her way over to where her partner had pinned Hawk Moth, his claws biting mercilessly into the man’s suit, threatening to tear holes in the fabric.

 _He’s your father,_ she wanted to scream at him, in a desperate and frantic effort to make him stop, to make him realise just what he was clearly inches away from doing. _You’re not like this. This isn’t you._

 _“Adrien!”_ she screamed out his name before she could stop herself.

She almost didn’t see the sudden look of absolute shock and horror that appeared in Hawk Moth’s eyes the instant Adrien’s name left her lips.

Almost.

In that moment, she didn’t see the villain. Suddenly, the sneering, malevolent veneer was gone, and all that was left was Gabriel Agreste. A man looking up in horror as the reality of the situation was finally beginning to dawn on him. The shock and fear in the eyes of a man just now realising he was fighting his son. Marinette hoped that would be enough. That maybe, seeing his father immediately deflate and stop fighting would snap Adrien out of what seemed to be the full on _blood rage_ that was coursing through him.

But he didn’t move. Nothing changed, and he didn’t move even an inch from where he was.

“I’m _ending_ this,” he snarled, nothing but pain and hate in his eyes as he brought his spare hand up in that oh so familiar fashion.

_No._

_God, no._

“Adrien-!” she shouted one more time, running to grab him, to pull him back, to do _anything-_

_“Cataclysm.”_


	7. Sunday

Adrien’s hand slammed against the wall, just a few inches from Gabriel’s head. The instant he made contact, a black stain spread out across the stone in spidery veins. Marinette couldn't bring herself to move, watching on helplessly as everything around her seemed to creak and groan, before the wall Adrien had pinned his father against finally crumbled away, allowing the morning sunlight to stream into the normally darkened lair.

It was all so bright that she had to shield her eyes for a moment, so her eyes could adjust to the glare.

What-?

What just-?

Suddenly, she could hear screams, people shouting and yelling as police sirens blared. Suddenly, the noise of the outside world came flooding back in, the instant the wall dissolved to little more than black dust. She sat there, confused and dazed by the turn of events, barely registering the silhouette that was Adrien wrenching his father to his feet and disappearing with him through the gaping hole in the wall left by his cataclysm attack.

She barely knew what was going on. Her mind was racing, thoughts flashing through her brain so fast she had no time to collect them all. She just stood there, motionless and in shock as reality seemingly refused to set in.

She could feel her knees grow weak and didn’t fight it as she sank to the ground, shaking.

Had that just… did he _just…_

This wasn’t happening. That didn’t just happen.

What just happened?

Everything had gone by so quickly and now she had no idea if it had really just happened at all. Adrenaline was still coursing through her from the fight, her heart still hammering relentlessly in her chest, but she didn’t move. Her body simply refused to.

And he was gone, they were both _gone,_ they’d disappeared from her sight and she had no idea where they were or what they were doing and she could hear people and sirens and she still couldn’t get her head around the fact that Adrien had just _done that-_

She had to be down there. She had to be with him.

As soon as that thought crossed her mind, something seemed to click back in place. She leapt to her feet and rushed to the missing wall herself, sliding down the athered pile of debris before ultimately coming to a clumsy halt on the ground, a little ways away from the main commotion. People crowded around what seemed to be a police car, shouting and yelling over top of each other, all fighting to get closer. Marinette’s eyes narrowed slightly at the scene and she began to move towards them, but stopped in her tracks the instant she spotted Adrien standing just a few paces away from her, completely ignoring the world around him, absorbed in staring mindlessly at something in his hand.

“C-Chat,” she stammered as she began to move towards him.

He barely reacted to her voice, turning just enough to see her out of the corner of his eye before lightly tossing something small and round to her.

“You take it,” he murmured, his voice low and flat and almost completely emotionless.

Marinette hastily caught it, clapping her hands over the small, round brooch and clutching it to her chest as her heart pounded.

“Is- is this…?” she began, not wanting to look at it for fear she’d feel sick if she did.

“His miraculous,” Adrien replied impassively. “I figure you have a better idea of what to do with it than me.”

She nodded, still clutching the brooch close. He was right; she did know what to do with it. Eventually. But right now, she had bigger concerns.

“What,” she gasped desperately, doubling over as she did so, “what did you just _do?”_

“Nathalie called the police,” he explained quietly. “So I gave them someone to arrest. Cause a commotion, get irrefutable proof. He can’t argue in court that he’s not Hawk Moth and we attacked unprovoked if there are thirty witnesses who all saw him turn back.”

That… made sense.

Too much sense.

“You knew that was going to happen.”

It wasn’t a question, and evidently, Adrien knew it. He glanced away, staring off into the distance, refusing to look at her.

“Yeah,” he murmured.

“That was your plan all along.”

“Well, I was kind of hoping we’d get away a little cleaner than this, but… I guess it was, yeah.”

Marinette didn’t know how to react to that. Part of her wanted to scream at him. Wanted to demand why he hadn’t told her ahead of time, why he’d elected to stay quiet and let her think he was about to do something irreprehensible. She wanted scream and yell and hit him and spend the next twelve hours _lecturing_ him on how much of an _idiot_ he’d been. There were so many things she wanted to say; things she felt she _had_ to say. _How dare you not tell me,_ and, _I thought we were done keeping things from each other,_ and, _what did I say about warning me before doing something stupid,_ and a million other things.

But she didn’t.

She didn’t say _anything._ Even as the ever growing crowd began to move towards them and she found herself being pestered with what felt like a million different questions all at once, she said nothing.

“I’m really angry at you,” she told him quietly, when words finally did come back to her, doing her best to ignore the world at large and focus solely on her partner.

“I know,” came the reply.

“Seriously, Chat. That was the stupidest thing you’ve ever done.”

“I know.”

“You should’ve told me.”

“I _know,”_ he repeated, again, letting out a soft groan and massaging his temples. “I didn’t think it through. I just thought… I don’t know what I thought. Sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t cut it!” she snapped back at him in a furious whisper-shout. “I thought- … _I thought…_ god, Chat, I really thought you were-”

“Ladybug!” a voice shouted over top of her, cutting her off. Marinette pulled back slightly, silently seething at both Adrien and the crowd that was now thronging around them.

She knew they just wanted her to say something, to reassure them that everything was fine, that it was all under control. She knew what they wanted her to say. But the second she indulged them was the second they all leapt on her to answer _all_ their questions, and she didn’t have time  _or_ the energy to stay for the next several hours explaining the reasons behind her actions. Even if she _did_ have the time, _he_ certainly didn’t.

And if there was one thing she was determined not to do today, it was leave him alone with his thoughts for longer than ten seconds. Not now. Not after everything. Not when he was in this kind of headspace.

“Later!” she found herself screaming in exasperation, shooing everyone away. _“Later!”_

No doubt she’d be inundated with thousands of interview requests, among other things. Alya among them. She was _always_ among them.

Quickly, she found herself anxiously scanning everyone in the surrounding area, keeping a careful lookout for her best friend. Would she be there? Somewhere out there in the crowd, or maybe on her way in? Did she even know about what was going on? Had she already heard?

Yes. Definitely. It was _Alya._ When was she ever _not_  as up-to-date as humanly possible when covering a Ladybug story?

Okay. Was she actually willing to talk right now? To anyone?

No. Not at all. In any capacity.

Anxiously, she pushed Adrien even further behind her, carefully blocking him off from everyone’s line of sight with her own body. If she was feeling too vulnerable to talk, then he was in absolutely no position to deal with any of this nonsense. And it  _was_ nonsense.

“Chat,” she called quietly, awkwardly leaning back so he could hear her, despite the chattering of the crowd and the occasional police siren that continued to occasionally go off without warning. “Chat, listen to me. You don’t have a lot of time left.”

He didn’t have much time left, and this was quite possibly the worst time and the _worst_ place for him to lose his transformation. Not here. Not now. Not after what just happened.

He needed to get out of here. He needed to leave, _now._

“Head back to my place,” she told him quickly. “You should get there before your transformation wears out. I’ll keep their attention as long as I can – and for the _love_ of everything, make sure you aren’t followed.”

“Worried someone will work out where you live?” came the overly flippant reply.

She huffed irritably.  _Sure. Make quips about it now._ “I’m more worried about the boy who has _less than two minutes_ to get somewhere safe before his superpowers wear out and display his _currently somewhat controversial secret identity_ for the whole world to see. Get out of here and let me deal with the circus.”

Adrien nodded weakly, his once perfectly maintained steely visage quickly gone as an expression of sheer _relief_ flashed across his face. “Y-yeah… sure, yeah. I’ll meet you there?”

“Yes.”

“How long will you be?”

“Five minutes,” she replied hastily. “If that. I promise. Now go.”

“Are you sure about this?”

She shoved him away, impatient now. _“Go,_ Chat.”

He gave her one last grateful look before extending his baton and quickly vaulting away, landing on a nearby rooftop before promptly disappearing completely from sight. Marinette couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief to know that he was gone.

It was a little odd, not being the one to rush off immediately after a fight. For what felt like the first time in her entire career as Ladybug, she could actually hang back, take a moment to breathe, and actually experience what happened immediately afterwards. It was… new. Unfamiliar. And in that moment, she couldn't tell if it was a good thing.

She fought her way through the crowd, trying to get to the dumbfounded police officers who were clearly not been prepared to deal with something of this magnitude when they were called out to the Agreste's estate. While they seemed relieved to see her making her way towards them, their confusion was palpable. But _everyone_ was confused. _She_ was confused. That wasn't going to change any time soon.

She gave a rushed and somewhat anxious rundown of the situation to them, always being careful to leave out any names or specifics of any kind. She spoke so quickly her brain didn’t quite register the words she was saying, only that it all part of a speech she’d rehearsed over and over just for this occasion.

They had a tip-off of vital information. They had to act before another attack happened. The situation is under control. Of course they’ll both cooperate with the police as much as they were able. She has Adrien Agreste in protective custody and she’ll release the information regarding his whereabouts when she’s sure he’s no longer in danger (because _she_ put him in danger, she let it slip who he really was in front of _Hawk Moth,_ she was an _idiot)_. No, he’s not a threat himself. _Yes,_ she’s sure he has nothing to do with his father’s activities. Yes, the initial tip-off did originally come from Adrien himself. No, don’t let this information go public.

It was supposed to feel different this time. Saying these things to an actual person was supposed to mean something. But it was all completely automatic and came out sounding so robotic, Marinette couldn’t shake the feeling that it felt no different than when she said all these things to her mirror.

Then, as soon as she was sure she’d gotten all of this out and it was understood, she threw her yo-yo towards the closest building and swung away, suddenly desperate not to be there anymore.

Part of her wanted to go anywhere but home, terrified by the prospect of being with Adrien in a private place where he’d obviously want to talk about what they just did. She didn’t want to do that, didn’t want to admit what she was thinking, didn’t want to face the fact that she’d just _outed him_ to his _father_ because she’d completely misread the situation and-

 _And,_ she needed to calm down. Now. _Right_ now.

It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter what kind of danger he was in, she would protect him. She’d protect him from _anything._ If Gabriel was truly that cruel and vindictive, he’d have to go through _her_ first. And unlike him, she still had her miraculous. She had both of them. For once, she had the upper hand. She had _control._ And come hell or high water, she would use it to protect the people she cared about.

Adrien – a very detransformed, thoroughly civilian looking _Adrien Agreste_ – was waiting for her on her little terrace, leaning on the railing and absently staring into distance, not even flinching as she made a dramatic three-point landing behind him.

“Hi,” she greeted him as she straightened.

It was only then Adrien turned, just enough to see her in his peripheral vision, forcing a small smile that was gone almost the instant it came. “H-hey.”

“How are you doing?”

He visibly shivered before looking back out at Paris’ skyline. “Ask me again in a few years and maybe I’ll have an answer.”

Marinette nodded glumly, before quietly joining him there. “Fair enough, I guess.”

It was odd – the last time they’d been up here together like this, Adrien had been the one in costume. It was one of the few times she could remember Chat Noir being noticeably soft spoken and quiet, as opposed to his usual personality. It was probably the first time she’d given real thought to the possibility that he had genuine feelings for her, too.

What an awkward, oddly romantic night _that_ had been.

She shouldn’t have dismissed him back then. She shouldn’t have done a lot of things.

“Where’s Plagg?” she asked, anxious to change the topic of conversation so she wouldn’t have to think about it any longer.

Still, Adrien didn’t look at her. “Raiding your kitchen for cheese. I couldn’t stop him.”

“My parents are home,” she mused quietly, aware that this should have sent her spiralling into far more of a panic than it did. “I hope he’s stealthy.”

“I wouldn’t worry. He’s had practice.”

“I guess if he can steal food without people noticing in _your_ house, he’s probably a world class master thief,” she said, chuckling a little at the thought. “Please tell me he didn’t yell at you again.”

“He’s being the most amicable he’s been since I first _met_ him. It’s terrifying.”

Marinette let out a small exhale that was supposed to be calming, not that it succeeded much. “I’m sure he’s just trying to be conscientious.”

“I wish he wouldn’t,” Adrien replied, closing his eyes and letting out a long, thoroughly exhausted sigh. “You know, I thought I’d be _glad_ when this was over. Instead I’m just… I don’t know. I’m- I’m _tired.”_

“I’m sorry I outed you.”

He blinked several times in surprise. “What?”

“Back when- I yelled your name without thinking. Your dad heard me. I just- I didn’t mean to do that.”

“I know you didn’t.”

“I just didn’t know what else I could do to get you to stop, because I thought- …I mean, you _didn’t,_ and you obviously _weren’t going to,_ but the point is I _freaked out_ over _nothing_ and now he knows who you are. I messed up really badly and I’ve probably ruined that forever and-  _and..._ I don't know. I’m sorry. I'm stupid and I'm impulsive and I'm an idiot and I misunderstood and I'm  _so_ sorry.”

“Marinette,” Adrien called her name softly. “It’s okay.”

“It’s _not_ okay!” she shouted, gesturing wildly at the world around them. “All my yelling about keeping everything a secret in order to protect the people we care about from Hawk Moth and I literally just ratted you out _to_ Hawk Moth.”

Suddenly the brooch felt very heavy in her hand, and she clenched it all the tighter.

All because she’d worked out who he was in the first place, she _never_ should’ve done that, she wasn’t supposed to know, she _hadn’t wanted to know,_ and if she hadn’t ever been stupid and pressured him in the first place then he’d still be _safe_ because she wouldn’t have been able to give that information because she  _wouldn't have known_ and she wasn't  _supposed_ to know, all of it had been to avoid exactly this kind of situation, avoid her being that much of an impulsive _idiot-_

“Maybe,” Adrien agreed with a slight nod, breaking her out of her thoughts. “But there isn’t much he can do about it now. Let’s not worry about it until it actually becomes a problem.”

“You’re just going to shrug it off?”

Finally, for the first time since she’d arrived, he turned to face her properly. “You want to know something?”

Marinette blinked in surprise at that, taken aback. It was such an abrupt question. “Um, sure?”

“We just defeated Hawk Moth,” he told her matter-of-factly, a strange kind of disbelieving smile pulling at his lips. “We did it. It’s over. There won’t be any more akuma attacks after this. We _won.”_

For the longest time, Marinette just stared at him, a little shocked, though honestly, she didn’t know what she felt that way. It _wasn’t_ shocking.  At least, it shouldn't have been. She’d been there, not even that long ago. Nothing about it was surprising in any way. But when he said it like that, when put so bluntly, suddenly the reality of it all seemed so absurd.

“We… we did, didn’t we?” she murmured, realising the truth of it. “We actually won.”

“Yeah we did. We saved Paris today. Maybe the world.”

“Did we seriously just _do_ that?”

“It’s _crazy,_ right?”

They both stared at each other for a moment, as the realisation finally began to sink in properly. There was a brief second of silence, before they both spontaneously burst into fits of hysterical laughter.

Marinette doubled over the railing as she fought to breathe through her almost constant giggling, her face going red as her core began to ache and she only laughed harder. Beside her, Adrien practically collapsed to his knees, weakly gripping the railing as he laughed. Just when it sounded like it was beginning to subside, they’d both start laughing with renewed vigour. It seemed like the longer it went on, the funnier it became.

It shouldn't have been that funny. It probably shouldn't have been funny at all.

But somehow, now it just seemed so  _absurd._ All of it, every aspect of the completely insane situation they'd been stuck in for who knows how long now. They'd spent so long taking everything completely seriously it was only  _now_ the crazier things actually seemed, well,  _crazy._

And on and on it went, until finally, with deep, gasping breaths, they both managed to calm down, ultimately descending into a melancholic silence.

Marinette glanced down at her gloved hands, resisting the urge to drop her transformation and anxiously begin to tear at her fingernails. Because despite all his efforts to deflect, Marinette could almost _feel_ the turmoil and pain that seemed to radiate from every part of Adrien’s being.

She couldn't blame him. Not really. 

“It’s horrible of me to say, but Adrien… for a moment there, I really thought you were going to do it,” she whispered, never once looking at him. “I thought you were going to kill him.”

Adrien didn’t look at her as he straightened back up.

“You know what’s worse?” he began haltingly, his knuckles whitening as his grip on the railing tightened once more. “For a moment there, so did I.”

She didn’t have anything to say to that.

What _could_ she say to that?

“What does that make me?” he asked hoarsely, still refusing to meet her eye.

Marinette cast her eyes to the ground immediately before her and tried to breathe.

“You didn’t do it,” she told him firmly.

“Part of me wanted to.”

“But you _didn’t,”_ she insisted. “The _only_ thing that makes you is a better man than your father.”

Of that, she was sure. It was one of the few things she was _still_ sure of, after everything that had happened. Nothing could shake that belief. Nothing at all.

“I can’t help but think…” he began, shifting anxiously from one foot to the other, “I can’t help but think I could’ve done something. Maybe if I’d paid more attention, I could’ve stopped it. Stopped all this from happening in the first place. _Saved_ him. Or maybe… maybe I could’ve saved _her.”_

Marinette chewed her lip, because she knew that instead, he’d lost them both. It was a decision he'd made - a decision she couldn't help but think he'd been  _forced_ to make. And it wasn't fair. On him, on  _anyone._  No one should have been put into that position. The world had no right to make such demands of him.

He was _fourteen._

“You can’t save everyone,” she murmured, wincing a little as the words left her. “Sometimes, you can’t save _anyone.”_

He let out a strange sound at that, an odd sort of gasping, strangled chuckle that Marinette took a moment to realise was actually a sob. Quickly, she found herself watching on helplessly as he crumpled in front of her, shaking with tears. Gingerly, she knelt down next to him, placing a hand on his shoulder in some vain effort to comfort him despite knowing that nothing she did now would help. It wasn’t something she _could_ help. All she could do was sit there and be with him as he cried.

She hated seeing him cry. She hated the fact that there wasn't anything she could do to help. The universe was so cruel and so unfair and he shouldn't have been the one to deal with it.

She didn’t know how long she sat there, silently being there for him as he cried and gasped and shook and tried his fight his way back to composure. Part of her didn’t care to know. It wasn’t important. She just waited until he fell into silence, and then she waited some more.

“Sorry,” he gasped finally. “Sorry.”

She shook her head. “It’s better to let it out.”

He nodded mutely, taking in a deep, shuddering breath as she gingerly wrapped an arm awkwardly around him. She didn't know what else to do. How are you supposed to comfort someone when you know they've just lost everything? What was she supposed to  _say?_  

_I'm sorry._

_I know it's hard._

_You made the right choice._

None of that was going to help. She knew that at best, it sounded hollow, and maybe a little patronising. 

_I'm proud of you._

_I love you._

She winced at that last thought. Not because it wasn't true - it was. It always had been. Nothing about that had changed. It was just- it wasn't important anymore. Never mind the fact that she wasn't confident she knew what she even  _meant_ by that anymore. She knew she cared. Still. She knew seeing him so hurt and distraught was something she never wanted to experience again. Was that what she meant? Was it something he even needed to know?

She didn't know romance. She didn't know  _anything._ But he needed to hear _something_ from her. Something that wasn't her clumsy attempts at sympathy.

“Nothing has changed for me,” she admitted slowly, making sure to keep facing the opposite direction in same vain atempt to hide the bright scarlet that was quickly colouring her cheeks. “I’m still… I care about you. About Chat _and_ Adrien. I always will. That’s not going to change. I want you to know that.”

_I want you to be okay._

“I don’t know what we are,” she continued when he said nothing. “But I still care about you and I want you to be okay.”

_Please, just let him be okay._

Slowly, carefully, she began to pull herself away, deliberately not meeting his gaze – whether out of respect for his privacy or sheer embarrassment over what she was doing, she honestly couldn’t tell.

“I don’t know what happens now, if we end up being anything. I guess that’s up to you,” she murmured, staggering to her feet. “If you want me, I’m yours. If not, I understand. And if you’re not ready, that’s okay too. I’ll wait.”

It wouldn’t matter what he decided, in the end. She’d be whatever he needed her to be. Of that, she was sure. There was too much love and respect for her to do any less.

“I’ll wait,” she repeated softly, offering him her hand.

He took it, letting her pull him to his feet before quickly pulling away, moving to the trapdoor that led to her bedroom. For a moment, he paused there, his eyes carefully trained on the small latch. Marinette stood there, leaning against the railing, watching him with bated breath, her heart pumping uncomfortably hard and fast. 

Slowly, Adrien turned his head, just enough to glance up at her, his lips parted slightly as he seemed about to say something, only for him to almost immediately think better of it. Instead, he nodded at her, and quickly disappeared inside without a word. For what felt like – and possibly could’ve been – an eternity, Marinette didn’t move, just leaned back against the railing and staring absently at nothing in particular. She was rooted to the spot, shaking slightly from the suddenly overpowering fear of rejection.

Damn it, she was supposed to be _over_ that.

She _was_ over that.

After everything they’d been through together, how was that still a fear of hers? Why did it still matter to her so much? Why did his silence still feel like the absolute end of the world her, so soon after she’d just _saved_ it? This should be her moment. Her crowning triumph as a superhero. She should be happy, ready to bask in the glory she’d fought so long and so hard to earn. Nothing should scare her anymore.

Nothing but a boy’s failure to answer her feelings in any way. But it was completely unfair to expect anything from him now, after everything. She knew that. At least, she liked to think she knew that.

“I’ll wait,” she reminded herself firmly, trying to regain the confidence she'd felt just a minute or two ago. “I’ll _wait._ I. Will. Wait.”

After reinforcing that to herself, she allowed herself to follow Adrien inside, only to find him sprawled out on her bed, unconscious.

“Oh, _minou,”_ she murmured, a small smile pulling at her lips as she carefully gripped her bedspread and pulled it over him. “You really weren’t kidding when you said you were tired.”

For the first time in what felt like years, he looked peaceful. Like he wasn’t at odds with himself anymore. She hadn’t realised just how much she’d missed that expression on him. Happiness looked so good on him. She only wished she could see it more often.

“Spots off,” she whispered, moving away from the bed, never taking her eyes off Adrien as her vision flashed pink and Tikki spiralled back into existence.

“You did it, Marinette,” her small, high pitched voice murmured tiredly.

Marinette turned, giving the kwami a thin smile. _“We_ did it. All four of us, together.”

Tikki beamed at her. “I’m proud of you.”

She nodded. “Plagg’s apparently somewhere in the kitchen, if you want to find him.”

The kwami seemed to understand the silent dismissal hinted at in Marinette’s words, and quickly nodded before zipping away. It was good she understood that. Sometimes, Marinette really did just want to be alone; so she could think and feel and be who she was -  _whoever_ that was these days - without the feeling of judgement. Not that Tikki had ever truly judged her, she just felt more comfortable knowing she wasn't being watched constantly by something, someone, somewhere.

Slowly, she made her way over to her desk, pulling out one of her drawers to reveal a painfully familiar small box where she had once kept Adrien’s ring. Gingerly, she picked it up, dropping the brooch she’d been clutching so tightly inside, before closing the lid and quickly locking it. She’d take it to Master Fu later, she told herself. When she was ready. When there was time. When she had managed to stop and breathe for a moment or two. When she wasn’t still recovering from the shock of everything that had just happened.

And hopefully, that would be the end of it.

Hopefully.

Until something – some _one_ – else came along.

Quickly, she slammed the drawer shut again. That was a problem for another day. If she didn’t _have_ think about it right now, she wouldn’t. She was only going to stress herself out otherwise. She needed the respite. By now, she felt like she’d _earned_ it, even if it was just for a little while.

Thankfully, she was saved by the sound of knocking.

“Marinette!” her mother’s voice called out. “Are you up?”

“Yes, Maman!” she called back, not looking up from her desk.

“Alya and Nino are here,” came the reply. “Do you want me to send them up?”

She blinked, her head snapping up so fast Marinette was a little surprised she didn’t give herself whiplash. _“What?_ I- n-no! Don’t send them up! I’ll- I’ll uh, I’ll come down!”

 _Nino and Alya?_  she thought as she frantically made her way out of her room and downstairs. Why were _they_ here? She’d expected Alya to call, sure, but actually _come_ here? _This_ soon? And why had Nino elected to tag along? Had they been in the middle of a date? Even if they had been, why had that led them here? It didn’t make any sense. She expected Alya to be out there, somewhere, on the street, filming everything in sight and revelling in the news like she usually did. Not here, looking for her. She couldn’t entertain guests right now, anyway. She had to do something, head them off, keep them from finding out anything potentially dangerous.

But they’d probably want answers.

And why was _she_ obligated to give them? As far as anyone was concerned, Marinette Dupain-Cheng had slept in this morning, blearily checked her phone after waking up, only to find the news absolutely exploding with stories about Hawk Moth’s defeat and capture. _Marinette_ didn’t know anything about the fight. _Marinette_ wasn’t keeping up with superhero news. _Marinette_ didn’t know any details. She didn’t _need_ to.

Her mind turned back to Adrien, wincing as she thought about the cover story they’d been careful to come up with last night when they both realised he wouldn’t have anywhere to go after the fight. And  _that_ was enough to stress out about, frankly. Because Adrien didn't have any real potential caregivers left. There was nowhere for him to go. If they weren't careful, he could end up a ward of the state, if he wasn't already. And that was likely to end in him moving somewhere far, far away from her. And then she'd never see him again. And she knew she'd probably rather  _die_ than let that happen.

She gritted her teeth furiously at the thought. Problems for other days. Right now, she had friends to lie to.

She hated that. Hated how confidently she could do it these days. Hated how easily people believed her.

It was just. More. _Damage control._

She  _hated_ damage control.

Why? Why was this still happening? Wasn’t it _over_ now? Shouldn’t it be _over?_

She sighed. It _was_ over. And if she wanted to stand a chance at returning to any semblance of normalcy, any semblance of the life she’d led before the miraculouses, before Hawk Moth, before Ladybug and Chat Noir, then she’d have to grit her teeth and bear it.

She could do this. She’d practised this. She’d _rehearsed_ this, over and over and over again in front of her mirror. One more lie. One more massive lie to cover up a truth too dangerous to know, and then she’d never have to do it again.

She thought.

She _hoped._

“Alya!” she gasped in surprise the instant she spotted her best friend pacing agitatedly around the loungeroom, while Nino sat on the couch, staring dejectedly ahead. “Nino! What are you two doing here?”

 _“Marinette!”_ Alya practically screeched, waving her phone around wildly. “I've been trying to call you for _ages!_ Did you _see_ what _happened?!_ Gabriel Agreste was arrested! He’s _Hawk Moth!_ Hawk-freaking- _Moth!_ Everyone’s going nuts! It’s _crazy!”_

I- I… uh- um, yeah,” she managed to choke out after far too long a pause. “Y-yeah, I heard. Ladybug and Chat Noir finally caught up to him. How about that? Crazy.”

“Not who you would’ve picked, right?” Alya continued, still too taken with the entire situation to pay any real attention to Marinette’s clear unwillingness to engage, or Nino’s expression of silent desperation. “What’s worse, we don’t know where Adrien even _is,_ let alone how he’s taking it.”

“I’ve been trying to call him all morning,” Nino added, his voice quiet, but ultimately unable to mask the frantic undertones. “Alya rang pretty much everyone else in our whole class to see if they knew anything. No one’s been able to get ahold of him.”

“And I eventually figured you’d probably at least know his schedule well enough to know where he is,” Alya finished for him. “Not to mention, you weren't answering, either. So we came here. And also, did you know that _Hawk Moth_ was _arrested?_ Like, _Hawk Moth?_ The terrifying supervillain? _That_ Hawk Moth? Arrested? Oh my _god,_ this is _huge.”_

A shiver went up Marinette’s spine, not quite sure what to do, or what to tell them. She knew _precisely_ where Adrien was, of course, but couldn’t bring herself to tell them that. How would she explain herself, for one; when they found out that he was sprawled out on her bed, fast asleep? The _last_ thing Adrien needed right now was to be woken up and harassed by people. Even if it was people who cared deeply about him. After the morning’s events, after everything he’d been through the past couple of weeks, Marinette fully intended to leave him be. He could come out of hiding and deal with people when he was ready to do so.

“I- I don’t know,” she murmured, hating herself for how easily the lies came to her nowadays. “I don’t know where Adrien is. I haven’t heard from him since the other day.”

Alya threw her hands up into the air helplessly and let out a loud growl of exasperation, but Nino nodded silently, apparently having braced himself for that answer.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck and looking away. “Don’t worry about it. We knew it was probably a longshot. I’m just worried. I mean, it’s not like he really has anyone right now.”

“He has people,” Marinette told him a little indignately, folding her arms.

“Of course he does,” Alya cut in. “He has _us,_ Nino. More specifically, he has _you.”_

Nino shrugged, clearly at a loss of what to do, or what to say. “I just don’t want him to think that I blame him, you know? He probably thinks it was all his fault.”

“Why would he think it’s his fault?” Marinette asked, a little dumbfounded. “He _knows_ it’s not his fault.”

Nino arched an eyebrow at her for that. “Have you _met_ him, Marinette?”

“Adrien Agreste being objectively aware of something and Adrien Agreste being _emotionally_ aware of something are two _very_ different things,” Alya said a little absently, her eyes still glued to her phone. “I thought you knew that, Mari. I mean you've only spent just about every hour of every day since you met him  _obsessing-_  argh, battery’s low! Marinette, where’s your charger? I’m borrowing it.”

Marinette sank down onto the couch, staring absently ahead as she tried to process all the information, and how exactly she planned to deal with any of it. All of this information should’ve been obvious to her, but somehow, it just wasn’t. She’d been so focused on their goal, so focused on stopping Hawk Moth and ending it, and now…

It was over.

But that couldn’t be right. It was _never_ over. There was always something else, some other problem to deal with, something immediate and pressing and potentially deadly that demanded Ladybug and Chat Noir’s attention. If not Hawk Moth and the akumas, then _something,_ surely. There had to be something. There couldn’t just be nothing. It couldn’t just be _over._ Not like that.

“Sure thing,” she called absently to Alya. “It’s in my room.”

“Cool, cool, cool,” were her best friend’s last words before she turned heel and dashed to the stairs that led up to Marinette’s bedroom.

Her bedroom.

Where Adrien was currently passed out on her bed.

_…oh no._

“Wait!” Marinette screeched, leaping to her feet and rushing after her, Nino following close behind. “Wait, Alya, I didn’t mean-!”

She cut off the instant she emerged into her bedroom, revealing Alya standing dumbstruck in the middle of the empty space, staring idly at the mess of blond hair that peeked out from beneath the light pink bedspread. For one long, agonising eternity, there was dead silence as Alya stood there and Nino clambered up see what the fuss was about and Marinette simply braced herself for the coming tirade.

Of course getting out of this without having at least one of her countless lies exposed was too much to ask for. Nothing was ever going to be simple, was it?

“You. _Liar,”_ Alya thundered, whirling around and pointing an accusing finger at Marinette. “You little _liar!”_

“It’s _not_ what it looks like,” Marinette insisted, holding up her hands defensively.

“Are you _kidding?_ He’s been here in your house the _whole freaking time?!”_

“Shh! Don’t wake him up!”

“Is he okay?” Nino demanded, rushing over to see.

“He’s _fine,”_ Marinette said with a loud sigh. “He’s fine, just tired. Please, _please_ just let him sleep.”

Alya spun around on the spot several times, raking her hands through her hair and completely at a loss.

“I- I can’t…” she began, utterly lost for words. “I can’t believe this. I can’t believe this is happening. _Why_ is he even _here?”_

Marinette squared her shoulders and tried to focus on her planned cover story. She wasn’t sure how it was going to hold up, but she hoped that with a matching testimony from Ladybug, people wouldn’t question her. At least, not too much. Not enough to rouse any real suspicion.

“Ladybug brought him here last night,” she said with all the confidence she could muster. “Before she and Chat Noir went to take on Gabriel. She knows we’re… uh, that- that we’re… _friends,”_ she gave Alya a meaningful look, “and said something about wanting him away from the fight, that I was basically keeping him in protective custody until it all got sorted out. I wasn’t allowed to tell anyone.”

Her eyes slid to Nino, immediately anticipating the question she could see forming in his brain.

“It had to be someone he knew and trusted, but not someone people would immediately connect to Adrien,” she told him quietly. “Lots of people know you and him are close, Nino. It had to be someone with a little more distance than that – so people wouldn’t find him if they went out looking for him.”

God, did  _any_ of this sound even  _halfway_ believable? Or was she just fooling herself into thinking that Alya and Nino were buying it? They couldn't possibly be buying it. It was too stupid, too nonsensical-

And the truth was, what? Totally rational by comparison?  _Well you see, we're both the secret identities behind the magically powered superheroes and also Adrien's had about five consecutive mental breakdowns about having to fight his dad who is the guy running around loosing evil brainwashing butterflies of corruption on the world for reasons we think we understand but we're not totally sure and oh boy it's complicated-_

Yeah.

No.

Lies it was.

“And by _people,_ you mean…?” Alya prompted quietly.

“I mean Gabriel Agreste,” Marinette whispered. “Or _Hawk Moth,_ I guess. He knows you, Nino. He doesn’t know me. At least, not well enough to think I’d be the one hiding his son.”

Nino nodded stiffly, before sinking to the floor in silence. Marinette glanced down, her heart thumping relentlessly in her chest as she tried to gage whether or not they bought any of her elaborate lie.  She didn’t know what else to do. She didn’t know what else to say. Maybe it was over, but maybe it wasn’t. She couldn’t risk the truth. She still had no idea how this was going to turn out.

“It was for his safety,” she mumbled awkwardly, not sure what else she could do to justify herself.

Alya folded her arms. “Is that what Ladybug said?”

_I'm saying it. Right now. So, yes?_

Marinette smiled grimly. “You can ask her next time you get an interview, if you don’t believe me.”

“How does Ladybug even know you?” Nino cut in abruptly.

“Same way Ladybug knows anyone,” Marinette pointed out dryly, having already anticipated that question. “Akumas.”

“You’ve never been akumatised, though?”

“No,” she admitted softly, “but I’ve been targeted by them a few times. I started leaving out things for them when they pass by on patrol, as a thank you. I guess that was enough to pique her interest, because we started talking every so often when she passed through. Chat Noir too, sometimes.”

It was never not going to be weird, talking about herself as two different people like that. Acting as if they were friends, and trying to come up with an origin story for that friendship. But there wasn’t any other way to put it, other than simply coming out with the naked truth. Was this how Adrien had felt, about a little over a week ago? When she'd mindlessly assumed Adrien and Chat were friends, and he'd been forced to just go along with it? It was just too confusing.

“How’d they even work out who he was in the first place?” Alya mused. “I mean, Gabriel Agreste’s a paranoid recluse, we all know that, but… well. He never exactly screamed; _supervillain.”_

Nino let out a shout of bitter laughter. “Yeah he did. We just all gave him the benefit of the doubt because Adrien is his son.”

Marinette winced, uncomfortable with just how much that stood in stark contrast with her own initial reaction to discovering the truth. Nino never doubted Adrien, or his intent. He never judged him because of who he was related to. Once upon a time, she had thought she would've been better than that. One day, she  _would_ be better than that.

“Doesn’t explain how Ladybug and Chat Noir found out so conclusively that they risked breaking and entering and attacked him directly,” Alya pointed out, glancing over to Marinette, clearly hoping for answers.

She shrugged. “Ladybug didn’t tell me, but… Adrien probably told them.”

Technically true.

At least there was that.

“Must’ve been a shock for you,” Alya sighed, the comment directed at Marinette, but said in a way that didn't seem to require an answer. “Ladybug abruptly turning up here with Adrien and a story about Gabriel Agreste being Hawk Moth.”

Marinette curled in on herself slightly, suddenly regretting everything she’d ever said or done – not to mention, everything she was _about_ to say and do. “I uh… I already knew.”

There was a long, excruciatingly long pause as Marinette shifted awkwardly, painfully aware that she was being gaped at by two of her closest friends. Two of her closest friends, who were both now aware of just how much she had lied to them lately. About everything. And now she was only going to lie to them even more.

She could do this. She’d practised. This was as well rehearsed as any of her lies were ever going to be.

She could do this.

She _could_ do this.

She just had to breathe, relax, and say what she’d planned with confidence. It wasn’t hard. It wasn’t anything she hadn’t done a thousand times already.

 _Besides,_ Adrien had said to her once, not even that long ago. _Lies are easier to maintain when there’s an element of truth to them._

She hoped he was right. There was so much on the line.

Alya blinked. “…what? I’m sorry, but _what?”_

It wasn’t that hard. It _shouldn’t_ be that hard. She was so tired of covering everything up. Tired of lying. Tired of damage control.

Oh man, she was  _so_ tired of damage control.

“I found out last Friday,” she mumbled, determined not to look at either Alya nor Nino’s shocked, aghast and generally incredulous expressions. “Adrien told me.”

Also true.

For what would probably end up being the biggest lie she was ever going to tell, she was being surprisingly honest about everything.

Good.

That's what she was going for.

“Adrien _told_ you?” Nino gasped. “He told _you_ and not _me?”_

“You knew Hawk Moth’s secret identity for over a _week_ and you never _told me?!”_ Alya had to stop herself from screaming to the heavens. “I’m your _best friend!”_

“And _Adrien_ is _my_ best friend!” Nino cut in. _“He_ should’ve told _me!”_

“Asleep, he’s _asleep!”_ Marinette hissed, frantically gesturing at them to tone down the volume. “And he told me in confidence. He was scared and freaking out and didn’t know what to do and I… wanted him to go to Ladybug and Chat Noir about it. You know, so they could put a stop to it. He was scared of what would happen if he did. I didn’t know he’d managed to track them down and tell them until last night when Ladybug showed up. I think… I think she knew that I knew. I think that’s part of the reason why she chose to bring Adrien here.”

Lies, lies, _lies._

More lies.

She didn’t know what else to say. She’d been rehearsing this conversation for too long.

“Anyway,” she breathed, glancing back to Alya. “That’s what the fight we had was really about. I know I lied to you and I’m sorry, but I couldn’t risk it becoming public knowledge until after Ladybug and Chat Noir dealt with it. Hawk Moth’s too dangerous. Backing him into a corner, making him desperate – it would’ve ended badly. Ladybug made that _very_ clear to me.”

Alya blinked several times. “…oh. That- wow. Um, yeah. Girl, that is _heavy.”_

Marinette nodded, once again casting her eyes back to the floor. A silence descended on them then, as she stressed and Alya stood there in shock and Nino didn’t seem to have anything to say. She hated herself for this, just as she knew she would, but what other choice was there? What else could she do?

Nothing.

There was  _nothing_ else she could do. This was simply her life. She didn't know why she was so surprised - this had been her life for so long now. This wasn't really any different from anything else she'd said to casually explain away her mysterious absences, or random injuries, or her permanently messed up sleeping patterns. 

One more.

Just one more time, and then never again.

“Oh man,” Alya groaned finally, leaning back until her head gently hit the wall. “This is so crazy. And complicated. What the actual hell is going on?”

It was a fair question, and one Marinette simply didn't have an answer for. Of all the things she'd anticipated people asking her, that was the one she couldn't say anything to. What was going on? She didn't know. After everything that had happened that morning, part of Marinette was convinced she'd simply never know. 

“I’m sorry,” a new, quiet voice called hoarsely from the bed, causing all three of them to twist around in surprise.

In an instant, Nino was up and rushing over.

 _“Adrien!”_ he shouted, throwing his arms around a gaunt, generally exhausted looking Adrien Agreste and drawing him close. “What the hell, man? We were so worried about you!”

Alya glanced over too, her expression softening despite her arms still being folded tightly across her chest. “Marinette was just telling us everything. Sounds like you’ve had a crazy week.”

A small, crooked smile pulled at the corners of Adrien’s lips as he rubbed his eyes and tried desperately to hide just how utterly wrecked he looked. Somehow, he looked worse now that he did immediately after the fight – but Marinette supposed that was because he didn’t have anything to hide behind anymore. There was no avoiding the dark shadows under his bloodshot eyes without his mask there to cover them. 

“That- that’s uh… it’s one way of putting it,” he murmured, his eyes shifting over to Marinette for a fraction of a second before returning to Alya and Nino curious and concerned expressions. “I’m… sorry.”

“Adrien,” Nino began, “you don’t-”

“I’m _sorry,”_ he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry this happened. I’m sorry for what my father did to you – _both_ of you. I’m sorry for lying. I’m sorry I didn’t do something sooner, I-”

 _“Dude,”_ Nino cut sharply across him. “It’s _okay._ Nothing about this is your fault.”

“You don’t understand,” Adrien argued insistently. “I should’ve- I should’ve _seen_ it. I should’ve _known.”_

“How were you supposed to know?”

“Because… it’s _me,”_ he answered quietly, practically falling back onto the bed and burying his face in his hands. “Because I’m supposed to have a better understanding of the situation than anyone and it was _obvious._ Then, when it finally did occur to me, I ran away.”

Marinette tensed, her hands balling up into tight fists as the memory came steamrolling back to the forefront of her mind, like it had developed a nasty habit of doing every time Adrien was even a little bit upset in her general vicinity. She bit her lip, determined not to think about it. Not to let her guilt and anxiety over it rule her life like it had been doing for days now. That chapter of their lives was well and truly over, she should be able to let go. It shouldn't bother her anymore, but it did. There was some faint, distant corner of her mind that seemed to recognise that she'd never get that image of Adrien sliding off the roof of the estate out of her head. It was burned there forever, a permanent reminder of just how obtuse and thoroughly horrible she could be to the people she cared most about, without even knowing. A painful echo of her worst behaviour, and the terrible price she'd been forced to pay for it.

She was never going to live that down.

The universe wasn't going to  _let_ her.

“I’m _sorry,”_ Adrien repeated one more time, his eyes shifting over until they met Marinette's.

For a moment, she froze, completely unable to deal with eye contact. He looked so sad and in so much pain and the last time she'd seen him like that, he'd-

Well. It was burned into her mind forever, wasn't it?

She didn't deserve him.

She didn't deserve anything  _about_ him.

Finally, after an excruciating second or two, she shook her head. “I never blamed you.”

_My fault._

The thought echoed endlessly throughout her brain.

_My fault._

_It's my fault._

_It's all my fault._

She didn't listen, she brushed him off, she yelled and screamed and didn't even  _try_ to understand, and here he was, blaming  _himself_ for it, like  _he'd_ been the one to bring it all crashing down. Like he'd somehow chosen for it all to happen like this, like he was the one who gave Gabriel the butterfly miraculous, like  _he_ was the one who carelessly threw his partner under the bus after finding out Hawk Moth's identity.

“What do you mean, you _‘ran away’?”_ Alya asked, bringing them both back to the actual subject of the conversation – a stark reminder that they weren’t alone. “Ran away from what?”

Adrien swallowed uncomfortably. “I- I, uh…”

He trailed off into silence for a moment, anxiously rubbing the back of his neck like he usually did when he was stressed, staring directly ahead as he struggled to come up with something,  _anything_ to say, to explain himself.

And then;

“…no,” he murmured after too long, his eyes flicking back the people gathered in front of him. “You know what? _No.”_

They all pulled back, confused.

“What?” Nino asked, eyebrow raised. “What’re you talking about? What do you mean, _no?”_

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” Adrien murmured, glancing over to Marinette and never looking away, his way of silently asking her for permission. “I’m _not_ doing this anymore.”

Marinette’s mouth ran dry as she struggled to think of an answer to his unspoken question. Hastily weighing up the pros and cons.

She didn’t-

This was-

“Please,” Adrien whispered, looking more desperate than he'd ever been. _“Please.”_

In that moment, she just stared, reading only one thing from his expression.

_Trust me._

And she did.

Finally, she gave him a small nod, mentally bracing herself for the storm she knew was coming. Adrien gave a small, somewhat forced smile return, nodding back at her in mutual understanding.

“There’s something else,” he said slowly, his voice low and halting. “Something important.”

“Seriously?” Nino demanded. “Seriously dude, there’s _more?_ What more can there _be?”_

Adrien’s lips twitched slightly with a small, somewhat bitter smile. “I’m still lying to you. We _both_ are.”

“Oh my god, Marinette, all your talk about hating liars,” Alya began thunderously, eyes flashing dangerously. “What else are you hiding from us? From _me?_ I thought we were friends! I thought-”

“I’m Chat Noir.”

At the sound of Adrien’s voice, both Alya and Nino stopped dead in their tracks, both swivelling around to face him with wide eyes.

“I’m Chat Noir,” he confessed quietly, keeping his expression expertly impassive as both Nino and Alya’s mouths dropped open with shock. “The truth is, I’m Chat Noir and Marinette is Ladybug.”


	8. Monday

Alya didn’t speak to her much after that.

Marinette rolled her shoulders back and kept her focus solely on what was directly in front of her, determined to ignore it. Alya had spent the better part of the previous day and night staring at her in shock, by this point Marinette simply accepted her silence as a new dynamic of their friendship.

She tried not to wince at the thought.

Their friendship, which had abruptly become _incredibly_ strained over the course of about five minutes.

The worst part of all of it was that Marinette knew she couldn’t blame Alya for her reaction. It wasn’t even the revelation that she was Ladybug that was the issue – it was the fact that said revelation had come barely minutes after she’d come out with yet another elaborate lie, presented as her finally coming clean. It was just how _many_ lies she’d told Alya, and how she’d clearly planned never to tell her anything remotely close to the truth. More than once, Marinette had tried to apologise for it, already painfully aware of just how much she’d managed to hurt her best friend with this. But every time she tried to say something, Alya would just flatly tell her that it was fine, that she understood, and nothing was wrong.

Of course, it was all said so bluntly and so completely without any kind of real emotion that Marinette knew the complete opposite was true.

“Dude, I still can’t believe it,” Nino sighed to himself as he fell into step beside Marinette as they made their way out of the bakery and towards the school. “But it makes sense! You know, I keep thinking about all this stuff I didn’t get at the time but _now…_ I do. I _get it._ For the first time in forever, I feel like I actually know what’s going on.”

Marinette nodded along absently, her eyes on Alya as she walked ahead of them, disappearing into the school building without even looking back.

“Is she ever going to forgive me?” she despaired quietly.

At her words, Nino glanced up too, his face quickly twisting into a sympathetic grimace.

“Of course she will,” he assured her quietly. “Alya’s bad at keeping grudges. And it’s not like she doesn’t understand why you lied.”

 _So why does she hate me?_ Marinette thought dully, hugging herself and fighting the growing feeling of wanting to burst into tears, right then and there. She’d expected things to be awkward for a while, sure. She’d expected most, if not all, of the countless questions that had been asked the day before.

“I just hate knowing she’s mad at me.”

“Nah Marinette, if she’s angry at _anyone,_ it’s herself,” he said in a bizarrely candid manner. “Because she gets why you did it and it makes perfect sense and she can’t help but feel cut up about it. She’ll be mad at herself for _being_ mad.”

“That makes _no_ sense.”

Nino just shrugged. “It’s just how she feels. Never said it had to make sense.”

Marinette exhaled softly and rolled her shoulders back, deciding right then and there not to think about it too much. Which of course, she completely failed at as she found her mind almost immediately turning to the events of the previous day, carefully analysing and re-analysing everything she’d said, and Alya’s initial reaction to it all. Now that she thought about it though, it was becoming increasingly apparent that at the time she’d been too focused on Adrien to really pay attention to anyone else.

She wasn’t sure what else she could’ve done. The impromptu reveal, the subsequent day she’d had to spend explaining herself to her friends who were clearly shocked and a little horrified at the truth, and the impulsive decision everyone made all at once to stay over as it had started to get dark before she was even _close_ to finishing her story – it had been stressful enough for her. Of course her focus was on Adrien. That was a totally normal, rational decision on her part that anyone else would’ve made.

Had she always been this protective of him, or was this a recent thing? Suddenly, she couldn’t remember. Trying to cast her mind back to her life before two weeks ago, it felt… distant. Like another life. Another awful, _awkward life,_ in which her crush had continuously flirted in her direction she’d been too completely hung up on his civilian identity to even notice.

One more thing she was never going to live down for the rest of her life.

“How do I get her to forgive me?” Marinette wailed, her hands balling up into tight fists as the frustration seemed to hit her all at once, like a battering ram. “I can only apologise so many times before it becomes completely meaningless.”

“Bribe her.”

Marinette stopped dead in her tracks in front of the school, blinking several times, taken aback by Nino’s terribly fast and frank response. It had been almost immediate, like it was a no-brainer. She didn’t want to think about what that implied about their relationship, exactly. But it was probably safe to say that Nino knew from experience what worked best.

“I- I’m sorry?” she stammered. _“Bribe_ her?”

“Yeah. Should be easy – I mean, you’re her best friend _and_ Ladybug. You’ll come up with something she can’t say no to. She’ll come right around.”

“I’m a little terrified by how sure you are of this.”

Nino shrugged. “It’s a tried and true method. Can’t deny that.”

“Suddenly, I’m worried for your relationship.”

“I wouldn’t be. We don’t fight half as much as you and Adrien seem to.”

Marinette gritted her teeth and looked away. “For the _last_ time, it was a _misunderstanding._ I didn’t know who he was at the time.”

“And _I_ can’t believe you both went _that_ long without telling each other. I mean, what was that going to accomplish, beside a whole bunch of miscommunication issues?”

She didn’t answer that. It occurred to her that there was nothing she could say that would fly as a good enough excuse for her actions. All she _could_ say was that it felt like a good idea at the time. She’d thought they were protecting themselves. How was she supposed to know that Gabriel Agreste would end up being Hawk Moth – and worse still, that Chat Noir would end up being Adrien? How was she supposed to see that coming? The decision to keep their identities private would’ve been _fine,_ had it been _any_ other person. But then their fight over the miraculouses and reality as they knew it had become deeply personal.

It was never supposed to _be_ personal. But fate had apparently simply decided to screw over Adrien Agreste, in particular. At least she could pretend to have an illusion of distance. He had no such luxury. Every facet of his life had become involved.

“I- I forced my best friend to fight me on his _birthday,”_ Nino realised quietly, before letting out a loud groan and smacking his forehead in frustration. “Oh man, I did that. That _happened.”_

“Nino…” Marinette began worriedly, reaching up and placing a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t do that. It wasn’t you.”

“It was his dad, though. Doesn’t exactly help, does it?”

No. It didn’t help. At all.

“You think he’s gonna be okay?” he asked, his expression now that of grave concern.

Marinette shifted slightly. “I… don’t know.”

How else was she supposed to answer that? What other answer _was_ there?

Nino let out a huge sigh, glancing up at the overcast sky. “We shouldn’t have left him alone.”

“We can’t _all_ bail on school,” Marinette pointed out tiredly. “It’s too suspicious.”

“I wasn’t saying that. I mean Adrien should _be_ here.”

A shiver went up Marinette’s spine at the thought. “You really want him to come to school? The day after his _father_ was arrested for being a _terrorist?”_

It still didn’t sound real. Especially when she said it like that, it sounded too absurd to be anywhere near reality. Now, that she had semblance of normality back in her life, almost everything seemed so much more insane.

“Nah, that’s not what I’m saying,” Nino argued. “Adrien _loves_ school, and he’s not the kind of person who stays home and stews in his own feelings when he’s dealing with stuff. He needs to _do_ things. Don’t be surprised if he turns up here on his own in a couple hours.”

“He’ll need to talk his way past my parents first.”

“You really think charming teen supermodel Adrien Agreste can’t smile and flirt his way past a couple of well-meaning adults?” Nino asked incredulously.

Marinette didn’t answer that, fighting desperately to ignore the uncomfortable shiver that went up her spine at the thought of _Adrien_ – brilliant, perfect, _Adrien Agreste_ who was _Chat Noir_ and she totally _wasn’t_ feeling possessive over – casually _flirting_ with her _mother_ just to get his own way.

She could see it all so clearly; he’d flash that perfect model smirk and his eyes would sparkle in that way that they did and all of a sudden her face felt _very_ hot-

She shook her head violently. That was the _last_ thing she needed to think about right now.

“Oh man, you’ve gone scarlet,” Nino noticed, a huge grin spreading across his face. “You know I didn’t mean it like that, right?”

Marinette blinked. “Ah- haha! Of- of course not! Why would you mean that? I knew what you meant.”

“You really are jonesing for him pretty hardcore, huh? Can’t believe I didn’t see that before.”

“I am not _jonesing_ for him,” Marinette snarled, turning away and huffing loudly.

“Alya tells me stuff too, you know,” came the somewhat tired, deadpan reply. “I shouldn’t have to tell you that he likes you back. He’s about as subtle as a truck.”

Once again, Marinette shivered. “I- I know.”

“So…?” he prompted.

She whirled back around at that, eyes wide. “So, _what?”_

 _“So,_ what’s stopping you?”

“Me? Nothing. That ball is squarely in his court.”

Nino groaned loudly, dragging his hands over his face in exasperation. “Oh my god, you two are a _trainwreck._ I don’t think I’ve ever _seen_ two people so scared of making the first move.”

“I’m worried it’s not the right time.”

Nino seemed completely unimpressed with that excuse, pushing his glasses up slightly so he could pinch the bridge of his nose in sheer exasperation. “Mari, you really need to accept that it’s probably _never_ going to be the right time.”

He was probably right, but Marinette didn’t for one _second_ appreciate it.

“Any other helpful tips while you’re at it?” she ground out through gritted teeth, not even bothering to hide her irritation – though whether it was supposed to be directed at Nino or herself, she didn’t know.

“Well. Getting locked in a cage together by Ladybug helps,” he said, all while giving her a pointed look.

She elected to ignore that, making a point of turning away from Nino and heading into the school complex in search of her actual best friend who she _should_ be talking about this with, as opposed to said best friend’s boyfriend. Nino just didn’t get it, the nuance of the situation, how delicate things were, how easily it could all fall apart and come crashing down around her if she made the wrong move.

It didn’t matter, anyway. What _mattered_ was Alya. What _mattered_ was how on earth Marinette planned to earn her forgiveness.

There were only so many times she could say _I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that I’m Ladybug_ sincerely.

Finally, she spotted her, and promptly charged her way through the crowd towards her.

“Okay. What do I need to do?” Marinette asked – maybe a little too loudly – the instant she knew Alya was within earshot. “Exclusive interviews? A unique Marinette Dupain-Cheng original creation? If you don’t want something new, I- I could alter your clothes for you, free of charge!”

She could do that! Of course she could do that. She loved dressmaking. It was her whole _thing,_ if one casually ignored all of the superheroing. Fashion and design and making clothes was what she lived for, she’d happily do this for Alya if it fixed their friendship. She’d probably do it anyway. She’d looked into alterations and tailoring before, she could learn the things she couldn’t work out on her own, surely, it wasn’t _that_ hard-

Oh, who was she kidding? She _hated_ alterations. She always had. Honestly, she’d rather design something completely new and make it all from scratch, and that was a thousand times more work. Alterations were bad and awful and she hated everything about them.

But she would do them, if it was for Alya.

Alya, who still wasn’t saying anything.

“Free bakery goods for the rest of eternity?” she suggested, growing increasingly desperate as Alya failed to respond in any meaningful way. “Or… um… oh! An official update on whether Ladybug and Chat Nori are dating? I know you want them together.”

_You and the rest of the entire world, me included._

Alya turned on her heels, looking over Marinette in surprise. _“Are_ Ladybug and Chat Noir dating? Suddenly, I’m unsure.”

Marinette held up her finger, waggling it in Alya’s face disapprovingly. “Do you forgive me? I’ll tell you if you forgive me.”

“Hey, that’s not even fair,” Alya whined. “You _know_ I’m about a million times more invested in that relationship happening now.”

“Say you forgive me.”

“You. Are. _Evil.”_

“Forgive me!”

“Fine, fine!” Alya shouted, though she was laughing now. “Fine, I forgive you. You and your stupid puppy eyes. Ugh, Nino put you up to this, didn’t he?”

As the words left her, her eyes shifted over to where Nino was standing, a few feet away, watching the whole exchange with an expression of amused interest.

“Don’t pretend bribery doesn’t work, babe!” he called back to her sweetly. “Ah… _every_ time.”

“You, _be quiet,”_ Alya hissed in his direction, despite her smile.

Marinette breathed a sigh of relief, no longer able to help herself.

_Nino, you’re a God-given saint._

_“You,”_ Alya called, returning her attention to her best friend, “tell me. _Everything.”_

Quickly, Marinette glanced around the courtyard, before quickly pulling Alya to the side where they’d be able to talk and hopefully not get in anyone’s way or arouse any suspicion.

It was fine. They did this kind of thing all the time. No one was going to notice.

“We… we’re not _together,_ per say,” she mumbled, shifting awkwardly as the heat suddenly rushed to her cheeks.  “But! I did tell him the truth about how I felt, so… does that count? Please tell me that counts.”

Alya’s eyes widened. “You _didn’t.”_

“Yes!” Marinette all but shouted in response, before pausing to think about it. “I mean, kind of. No, I did! I- I… oh wow. _Wow,_ I did do that. That happened. That actually _happened?”_

Her voice shot up an octave as it finally occurred to her that her awkward impromptu confession had indeed happened, in real life.

“And?” Alya prompted excitedly, unable to help herself. “What did he _say?”_

“He didn’t say anything,” she murmured, suddenly casting her eyes back to the ground. “I guess it wasn’t really a good time to come out with that, given the whole situation and… haha… _ha…_ oh my god, I’m so _tactless!”_

“I’m sure you didn’t embarrass yourself any more than you already have,” Alya pointed out dryly, cutting right through the tidal wave of anxiety that was washing over Marinette. “Besides, your not-quite-boyfriend, as it turns out, is a dork. I’m sure he doesn’t mind.”

“What do you mean, _‘as it turns out’?_ You’ve always thought he was a dork.”

“I thought he was sweet and little clueless. Now I think he’s sweet, _quite_ clueless, and a _complete_ dork with a _terrible_ sense of humour.”

Marinette shrugged. “I kind of like the puns.”

That earned her an incredulous look. “No, you _hate_ puns. What you _like_ is _Adrien Agreste.”_

That was… probably true, actually.

“Speaking of which,” Alya said suddenly, nodding over at something over Marinette’s shoulder causing her to immediately whirl around on the spot. “There’s your boy. Looks like he decided to come to school after all.”

Sure enough, there he was, standing at the entrance to the courtyard, talking to Nino. He was still looking tired, haggard and pale, but less so than the previous day. Marinette just stared for much too long, not quite sure how to react to seeing him there.

She’d told him yesterday to stay home. She’d _told_ him. The reason she, Alya, and Nino had all been so careful and quiet this morning when they woke up was so they wouldn’t disturb Adrien. They’d all fully intended to let him sleep in, to give him a few days to think and breathe and begin to pick up the pieces.

“Go get him,” Alya called, gently nudging Marinette forwards.

She stumbled slightly, recovering herself just enough to quickly flash Alya a mildly irritated glare before slowly, cautiously making her way towards the doors, where the two boys were quietly conversing. As she edged her way towards them, she began to hear what exactly they were talking about.

“I mean, I’m not gonna pretend I’m not glad you told me,” Nino was saying quietly, careful to make sure he wasn’t being eavesdropped on by anyone not already in the know. “But what I don’t get is just… why? Why do it? Why come out with it _now?”_

Adrien seemed to steel himself at that, finally glancing up to look Nino directly in the eye.

“Because my father wouldn’t have,” he said. “And I just- …I need to be different. I need to know I’m not him.”

Marinette moved faster, anxious to get to him, to reassure him, to tell him it wasn’t his fault, to do something, to do _anything-_

 _“Adrien!”_ came an all too familiar screech, as Chloé barged her way through the crowd, carelessly knocking into Marinette in her haste.

Stunned by the unexpected blow, Marinette quickly lost her balance, toppling over clumsily. Pain spiked throughout her body as she hit the ground, with absolutely none of the grace expected of the person behind Ladybug’s mask. Her palms stung as she tried to catch herself, causing her to wince at the thought of the grazes already forming there.

“Oh, _Adrikins,”_ Chloé was practically wailing, having practically thrown herself on top of Adrien and hugging him tightly. “I heard about everything that happened – of course I did, I mean, who _didn’t_ – it must be difficult. I’d hate to think of you not having somewhere to go. Daddy simply won’t allow that, of course. There will _always_ be a place for you at _le Grand Paris._ We can go right now, you don’t have to stay here. People _love_ rumours and gossip, you shouldn’t subject yourself to that nonsense. They don’t know what they’re talking about.”

“Th-thanks, Chloé,” Adrien managed hoarsely, while carefully and methodically unentangling himself from her vice-like grip. “But I’m ah, I’m already staying at Marinette’s.”

His eyes shifted over to Marinette herself now, as she slowly and somewhat awkwardly began to pick herself up off the floor. Chloé’s gaze quickly followed, only for her face to almost immediately screw up in what was quite clearly a look of pure disgust.

“But that’s-” she began in an indignant tone, before her eyes abruptly widened and she cut herself off, glancing between Marinette and Adrien several times.

There was a long, excruciating pause as Adrien stood there and Marinette remained frozen in the process of getting up, and Chloé didn’t seem to know what to do. Then, she pinched the bridge of her nose and let out a long, thoroughly exhausted sigh.

“That- …that’s _fine,_ Adrien,” she finished a little jerkily. “That’s totally fine. As long as that’s what you want to do. My offer still stands, any time.”

There was an awkward pause before Chloé gingerly hugged Adrien one more time, giving off the distinct impression that she suddenly had no idea what to do. Adrien, to his credit, returned her now gentle embrace like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“Promise you’ll talk to me,” she said as she slowly withdrew. “If it gets too much, promise me you’ll say something. I’ll be there. Whenever you need.”

He smiled – that small, sad, somewhat pained smile that had become so soul-crushingly familiar lately. “Always, Chloé.”

Chloé gave him one last smile before whirling around and closing the gap between them and Marinette, her lip curling as she shoved her hand in front of Marinette’s face. For what felt like way too long, Marinette just stared at the hand being offered to her, completely at a loss of what to do.

“Not going to stand here all day for you, _Marinette,”_ Chloé called snidely from above.

Marinette blinked several times in completely shock before slowly reaching up and taking Chloé’s hand, allowing her to pull her to her feet. Almost immediately, she tried to break away, not wanting to make physical contact with Chloé Bourgeois for any longer than necessary, but Chloé’s hand tightened around hers and wrenched her roughly forwards, until there was barely even an inch of space between the two girls.

“If you hurt him,” Chloé snarled to her in a voice so quiet it was barely audible, “I will remove you from this life and send you to the next in _pieces.”_

Marinette was too shocked to even reply as Chloé released her and pulled away, giving her one last dirty look before stalking off. Her mouth ran dry as she stared absently at Chloé’s retreating form, completely at a loss. She had no idea what just happened. It went so against every preconceived notion she had of Chloé.

“Hey.”

Marinette whirled around, eyes wide with surprise, only to find Adrien standing there, rubbing the back of his neck, never quite meeting her eye.

She almost immediately glanced down. “Uh, hey.”

Oh, she didn’t want to be here, she did _not_ want to be here, there were no _words_ for how much she didn’t want to be here, in this situation, talking to him.

Or _not_ talking to him, given the awkward silence that had quickly descended between them.

“What- what are you doing here?” she choked out, so quietly for a second she was positive Adrien hadn’t heard her.

But he did.

Because of course he did.

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, making a point of looking in the opposite direction. “I uh, I just- I had to get out.”

“R-right.”

“…yeah.”

Neither of them said anything after that, both just shifting around awkwardly, both just as determined not to look at each other. All of a sudden, it had become completely unbearable. It hadn’t been like this yesterday; though maybe that was because they’d both been too distracted by Nino and Alya’s reactions to being told the truth to really focus on each other. Suddenly, Marinette was _acutely_ aware of what she’d said yesterday, words that had seemed so natural at the time, but now made her want to crawl into a hole and die.

Adrien hadn’t spoken to her about it. Not even once. She didn’t want to think about what that meant. She didn’t _want_ to, but her mind went to all those places regardless, before she could do anything to stop it.

Maybe he was over it. Maybe he was over _her._ Maybe everything that had happened had made him rethink the entire situation. Maybe they were just stupid teens with stupid, inconsequential crushes and he decided that didn’t matter anymore. Maybe she’d hallucinated it all, maybe he’d never had any feelings for her at all and this was all some elaborate fever dream. Maybe she’d completely misread everything and it was all going to be terrible forever and there was nothing she could do about it. Maybe this was the universe punishing her for getting so caught up in her own stupid emotions and not paying proper attention to the world around her.

“You-” Adrien began to say.

“I-” Marinette started at exactly the same time.

Immediately, they both cut off.

“Sorry,” Adrien apologised quickly. “You, uh, you go first.”

Marinette flushed a bright red. “No, no. You should- you go first.”

There was a brief, utterly _agonising_ pause as she waited and Adrien seemed to just stand there in silence, trying desperately to focus on breathing.

“O-okay,” he said, still refusing to look at her. “Okay, um… yeah. You- you know, I’ve uh, been thinking. About yesterday. About what you said.”

She’d said a lot of things yesterday, but Marinette instinctually knew what exactly he was referring to. There was really only one remaining loose end with them. One huge thing, that had been hanging over them since, well, since forever.

“I… I want us to _be_ something,” he murmured in a shaking voice, apparently just as nervous as she was. “More than partners, or friends, or… _whatever_ we are now. I just- you said you cared about me and it kind of made me realise just how much _I_ care about _you_ and I don’t want to lose that because I’m too much of an idiot to say anything.”

Marinette just stared, not quite sure if she was actually hearing what she thought she was hearing. That didn’t sound right. That couldn’t be _real._ He didn’t just say that.

Did he just _say_ that?

“A-anyway,” he continued, clearly uneasy with her shocked silence. “I want us to be _something._ If you want to. That’s just, ah… that’s really all I-”

Before he could get out so much as another word, she moved up on the balls of her feet, gently clasping his shoulders as she pressed her lips against his.

She kissed him.

And it felt like…

It felt like, _finally._

“Adrien Agreste,” she whispered, pulling away just enough to see his face – the slight shock plastered across his expression for a moment before it was replaced with a small, somewhat dazed smile. “We _are_ something.”

**Author's Note:**

> The end.
> 
> Oh man that was a slog and a half to write. Thanks for coming on this little adventure with me, guys. It's been wild.


End file.
